A Glass of Crimson Souls
by moonlit.nocturne
Summary: "Why do you hate me so much, Chiaki?" "Because you're perfect, Uchiha, and I hate perfect people." "That's a bit unfair for me, you know. I might be imperfect. You don't know anything about me, really." "I hate you. That's all I need to know." But hate breeds passion, and passion breeds grief. And because Fate is cruel. ItachixOC
1. Letters of the Future, Past, and Present

**A Glass of Crimson Souls**

Fanfiction based off of: Naruto

Original Story: Masashin Kishimoto

**Chapter 1: Letters of the Future, Past, and Present**

_Sasuke._

_You seem unable to comprehend me. Me and Itachi. Itachi and me._

_You don't know what it's like. To love a person to the point of insanity. To be attracted to someone you thought you hated. To fall for him completely, head over heels, to the point where he could do anything and you would forgive him. To always find the best in him, because that's what you fell in love with, what you still love, what you'll always try to find even when it no longer exists._

_And even when he has that sword up to your neck and is looking at you with eyes of emotionless apathy, you still will love him. Because you fell in love with him, and it's not easy breaking out of that. And even though you love him to the brink of destruction, he doesn't love you back. Not enough. You'll never be most important._

_And when he's dead, you'll want to die. You'll want to end everything yourself. You'll never forget, you'll never forgive, but you won't be able to do anything. A life without him is soulless. You'll be left with nothing, will always have nothing, until the end of time._

_Your glass will always be empty._

_Miho_.

* * *

"Do it."

Sharingan eyes looked down at her, their brilliant crimson color flashing as she gazed up at them, unfazed by the kunai in front of her neck.

"If you're a man, Sasuke, do it."

His hand was trembling violently as his blood-red eyes continued to stare at her in fury.

"Why," he whispered. "Why, just stay out of my way…you want this too, you want me to kill them."

"Him," she said wearily. "Just Danzo. And leave the rest alone."

"No—all of them, for Itachi, I'll kill them all—"

"Then kill me as well. I don't mind," she said, her pale gray eyes fluttering shut. "I don't mind dying by the same hand that killed Itachi."

Sasuke grabbed her by the collar and slammed her against wall.

"That was a mistake," he said with burning coldness. "You know, you know how much it…"

"Hurt you," she said softly. "But I assure you, Sasuke, that it hurt me more…it destroyed me…knowing that I could not avenge him because killing you would go against his dying will."

The watery gray eyes opened again, and there was a clarity in them that could pierce through anyone or anything, shining with a determination to die.

"Do it, Sasuke. I'm tired of living. A life without Itachi…it's not a life at all, especially when I can't kill you to satiate my revenge."

"I…if you want revenge, then you should _join_ me, you should help me kill them, destroy Konoha, destroy this entire world that—"

"Forget it. I'm weary."

"Of what?"

"Of living."

"Miho—"

"Sasuke."

The Sharingan…those eyes that were so similar to Itachi's, but so devastatingly different. Her lips contorted into a exhausted, strained, pained smile as she was once again hit with the realization that she would never see Itachi's blood-colored eyes again.

"Do it, Sasuke."

She saw Sasuke's mouth twist, as if he were grinding his teeth together…then…

The kunai moved forward.

* * *

"Miho."

The fourteen year old teenager snapped her eyes open at the sound of her father's condescending voice. Blinking the dryness out of her eyes, she turned around to look at the intruder of her room.

"Otou-san," she said with equally biting sarcasm. "Do you need something?"

Her tall, tan, dark-haired father, Chiaki Hiroki, pursed his lips at her tone. They remained in a staring match for a few silent seconds before he spoke again.

"You need to go to the ANBU headquarters for your examination."

"I'm well aware of that," she answered, glancing up at the clock. "But that meeting starts in…fifteen minutes. I can take care of myself, you know."

"Miho," said Hiroki in a warning tone. "Watch your mouth."

"I haven't said anything offensive."

"Miho!"

"I'm leaving," she snapped, grabbing her weaponry from off her desk and sliding open the window of her second-story room. "I don't know if I'm going to be back in time to make dinner, so the leftovers are in the fridge."

"You—"

Miho escaped through the narrow window, landing expertly on the ground below her. She could hear her father's shouting through the open glass, but, having been exposed to it for the last fourteen years, wasn't perturbed by it. She tossed her soft black hair over her shoulder and strapped the kunai bag on her belt, letting out a sigh as she prepared herself for the appointment at headquarters. She really couldn't stand her father.

"Miho?" a voice said behind her.

She turned to the side, eyes lighting up at the sight of the newcomer.

"Kakashi-sempai," she greeted.

"Lovely day, no?" he said, his one visible eye winking in a smile. "Are you ready for your examination? Nervous, perhaps?"

"I think I'll be fine…" she said, her heart fluttering a bit as Kakashi tousled her hair. "I guess I'm glad that you'll be there—even if you're masked…that will make me feel a bit better."

"I'm honored to be there. It's impressive…" he remarked, "that you are eligible to try out already for acceptance into the ANBU Black Ops."

"Nowhere as good as you," she snorted, running a hand through her hair. "What were you, ranked jounin at thirteen? Joined the ANBU in your teens? And now a major ninja in this village, directly reporting to the Hokage, at the youthful age of twenty-one? How nice."

"You sound so sarcastic," said Kakashi, wincing a bit at her acerbic response. "And that was under different circumstances, Miho. We were at war—they were low on men. In your year, you're the best, aren't you? You should be content with that."

"I'm not," she said through gritted teeth, winding her hair into a tight bun.

"Pardon?" said Kakashi politely.

"I'm not the best," she said heavily. "There's…_Uchiha_."

She said the name with utter loathing.

"Ah," said Kakashi mildly. "Right…the Uchiha prodigy. Itachi, was it?"

"Let's stop talking about him," she said irately. "I hear enough about him at home. It's always _Itachi_ this, and _Itachi_ that, and _Itachi_ is God's gift to the shinobi world, because he's _so_ good, because he graduated from the Academy at age seven, _top of his class_, activated his Sharingan at age eight, became a Chunin at age ten, and has been an ANBU captain since last year. And he's my age! Goodness, the way my father raves about him! You'd expect him any minute just to ditch me in the middle of the streets and adopt that simply _amazing_—"

Miho stopped short as she and her sempai arrived at an intersection of roads; another person joined them. He was a good bit taller than Miho, his dark eyes shimmering like polished coals, as he surveyed both her and Kakashi. The newcomer was tan, well-built, and incredibly good-looking. Miho frowned upon seeing him, her cheeks tingeing a slightly deeper shade as she realized that he had most likely heard her rant.

Kakashi, amiable and mature, greeted him first.

"Ah, hello there, Itachi-san."

"Hello, Kakashi-san," replied Itachi civilly, his dark eyes flickering over to Miho. "Hello, Chiaki Miho-san."

"Uchiha," Miho said brusquely, nodding in acknowledgement. "Sorry, I have to go—it wouldn't be good if they saw me coming in with you, sempai. I'll see you in a few."

"Are you taking your examination for entrance in ANBU today?" inquired Itachi. When Miho just nodded curtly in response he said, "Ah, good luck then. I'm sure you'll pass—I've heard good things about you."

Miho stiffened.

"From who?" she asked warily.

"Your father," said Itachi, smiling a bit. "He's very proud of you."

"…Right," said Miho disbelievingly. "Well, I'm going to head out. See you later."

Without another word, she disappeared from the streets, running quickly along rooftops and alleyways towards ANBU headquarters. That wasn't the first time she'd seen Itachi—they bumped into each other occasionally in town—but they had never really bothered to have a decent conversation. Itachi was a smart guy; he seemed to understand that Miho didn't like him.

She felt her insides squirm a bit in guilt. It wasn't that Itachi had done anything to her in particular. He generally radiated an aura of…niceness, to some extent. It was just because he was so damn good at everything, and Miho's father, who was a teacher at the Academy, had been incredibly taken by Itachi's skill. Thus, it didn't help that she was constantly compared to Itachi, and being less talented and certainly less motivated, Miho always came up short.

It was tiring, to say the least, and she had grown to detest the mere mention of Itachi's name. It was a completely unjust, unneeded jealousy, but Itachi was everything that Miho was not, especially in terms of shinobi skill. And he was good-looking. _Very _good-looking. Her cheeks flushed a bit more, causing her to scowl. She had an examination, for goodness' sake! Why was she blushing like a child?

Miho ground her teeth together, locking her jaw so that she appeared stern and unrepentant. She was a kunoichi. Her dad would _kill_ her if she didn't pass. Miho sighed, bringing her hands up to make sure that her bun was tightly in place. She didn't want to fail. She really didn't. Her heart beat a bit faster as she remembered that Kakashi was going to be there to watch her. She closed her eyes for a brief second. Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

"Congratulations," said Kakashi as he walked out onto the bridge. He was smiling underneath that mask of his again. "They were impressed."

"It was more difficult than I thought it would be," she admitted, sitting on the rails of the wooden bridge as she looked out onto the river. "When they asked me for the _Kuchiyose no Jutsu_, I nearly forgot…had no idea what to summon."

"What animal do you normally summon?" queried her sempai.

Miho frowned a bit, looking distantly at the landscape.

"Crows," she muttered. "Ugly, black crows. They were just the first ones I could, and I just…stuck with them, I guess."

"Strange," Kakashi murmured. "You ended up somehow summoning Pakkun today."

Miho stared determinedly away from Kakashi's face.

"T-that's just because I'm used to seeing you summon Pakkun, and I just sorta thought of him and…yeah," she finished lamely. "That's it."

"Well, I'm glad Pakkun came in handy!" said Kakashi cheerily. "Oh, hey, Asuma, Kurenai!"

Miho turned around to see another two older shinobi join them, one a good-natured, well-built male who smoked like there was no tomorrow, the other a pretty, willowy woman with scarlet-colored eyes.

"Hey there!" grinned Asuma, waving. "We heard that your little protégé got accepted into ANBU—thought we'd come congratulate her!"

"Hey Miho," said Kurenai kindly to her. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," said Miho with a flitting smile.

"Want us to treat you out somewhere?" asked Asuma, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "Maybe some ramen or something?"

Miho thought briefly of her father, whom she had left behind with the leftovers in the fridge. She didn't feel bad at all.

"Sure," she said, hopping down from the railing. "How about some cheap ramen—that should be lighter on your pockets there, Asuma-sempai."

"Heck, I'm old enough to treat some people out once in a while," he chuckled, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing up and down as he laughed. "Hm? Oi, if it isn't Uchiha Itachi!"

Miho whirled around, eyes widening as she saw Itachi standing only a few feet behind her. She hadn't sensed his chakra at all. Damn…

"Hello, Asuma-san, Kurenai-san, Kakashi-san" he said congenially, bowing slightly in respect. "Could I perhaps borrow Chiaki-san for a while? Her father has asked me to escort her home."

"Tell my father that I don't need an overbearing watchdog," said Miho coldly. "I can escort myself home, thank you, and I'd rather go out with Asuma-san for dinner."

"Sorry, I think your father was rather adamant about you returning," said Itachi with a faint smile. "I've been told that I can use force if need be."

"It's all right, Miho," laughed Asuma, clapping a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I'll take you out some other time—now that Itachi had the chivalry to escort you home, let him!"

"Asuma-sempai…" said Miho through gritted teeth.

"Go ahead," smiled Kurenai encouragingly. "You don't want to keep him waiting. We'll take you out tomorrow!"

Miho heard Itachi chuckle slightly behind her and scowled.

"I don't want to—"

"Miho," sighed Kakashi with a serious expression.

Her scowl deepened at his intervention. Only when Kakashi beckoned for her to leave did she heave a sigh and obey, following Itachi down the bridge.

* * *

"They look good together," mused Kurenai aloud as the three jounin watched Itachi and Miho leave. "Itachi's really a good-looking boy, and Miho's not shabby either."

Asuma scoffed. "She's _decent_ at best, Kurenai. Nothin' like you."

Kurenai looked at him appraisingly, not sure whether to scold him for the insult directed to Miho or to thank him for his compliment directed to her.

"She'll be a beauty once she grows up, Asuma," said Kurenai, decisively settling in the middle of her mental battle.

"She doesn't like him very much," said Kakashi, obviously referring to Itachi. "He's got a decent attitude though—I thought she could try and get along with him. He doesn't seem to have many friends."

Kurenai snorted. "Have you _heard_ what women my age say about him? How old is he—fourteen? And yet they say he's gorgeous and terrific and talented—the boy's popular beyond reason, Kakashi."

"But that's not the same as having _friends_," said Asuma. "Maybe they can learn to get along…"

The three of them watched in silence at the great distance between the two subjects of matchmaking. It was rather obvious that Miho was stonily looking away from Itachi.

Kakashi sighed. "Maybe it was too much to ask for…but Miho really needs to make some friends her own age. It's a bit sad that she only hangs around us…"

"It's her father's fault," said Kurenai disapprovingly. "He chased away all her friends because they were too 'weak.' Honestly! The nerve…"

"I thought he was a good teacher," said Asuma mildly.

"Well he _hated_ me," said Kurenai.

"I think he's a bit of a chauvinist, really," said Kakashi weakly. "Miho says that he always complains that she was born a girl and not a boy…"

"Well what does he expect, a sex change?" said Kurenai snappishly. "All that sexism just because his wife was a bit weak—from illness!—and now he hates all women…"

"That's stretching it a bit far, Kurenai," said Asuma dubiously.

Kurenai let out a sigh and ran a hand through her long, silky hair.

"Well, let's just hope he doesn't give Miho a terrible time at home," she said grimly. "Heaven knows that girl's gone through enough on his behalf."

* * *

Miho and Itachi walked in silence. Miho left a wide gap between the two of them and determinedly avoided looking at Itachi's face. She knew exactly what her father was up to—trying to get her to befriend Itachi. Or maybe even date him. The _absurdity_.

Itachi broke the silence

"You know, Chiaki-san—"

"You can drop the honorific, you know," she said tersely.

"I think I'll just leave it," said Itachi amiably. "I was just wondering why you hate me so much."

Miho let out an angry hiss. Trust the moron to ask so directly.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that you're not supposed to ask about a person's innermost feelings?" she said.

"My mother may have mentioned it," said Itachi innocently. "I tend to forget her words of wisdom though. Mind answering my question?"

"It's because you're _perfect_," she said loathsomely. "That's all."

There was a silence after her words. She snuck a sideways glance at his face, just to make sure that she hadn't really upset him. His expression was dark, almost disgusted…an expression she didn't think he was capable of making.

"I mean, it's not your fault," she added hastily, trying to remedy her situation. "It's just that my dad adores you, and I sort of hear about you too much at home, which leads to me being rather biased against you—it's really not your fault, just my petty…"

Her words trailed off as Itachi smiled slightly, even letting out a small chuckle. She shifted nervously, turning away as her cheeks grew redder. Trust her to make such a stupid mistake…

"I'm not offended," he said. He was obviously lying. "Oh, we've arrived."

They approached Miho's little flat at the edge of the village, only two stories tall with very small rooms. It was situated rather close to the Uchiha residency. So Itachi hadn't gone out of his way to walk her home; that realization made Miho feel a little better.

She walked up the steps to her house and turned around, only to see that Itachi was still there.

"You…you can leave now," she said jerkily.

The door opened by itself, and she turned to see her father, who looked at her with contempt. His expression changed immediately once his dark eyes landed on Itachi.

"Oh! Itachi-kun! Thank you so much for walking Miho home."

"It's not a problem," said Itachi respectfully. "It was really a pleasure."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Hiroki asked.

_Say no_, begged Miho silently. _No, you don't, you want to go home and_—

"That would be nice," said Itachi.

She groaned, eliciting an angry glare from her father, but she could've sworn she heard Itachi chuckle again. Miho gritted her teeth. Itachi was doing this just to spite her…

"I'm going out with my sempai tomorrow," she hissed under her breath to her father. "So don't even bother trying to restrain me—"

"In return, would you like to come over to our house tomorrow for dinner?" asked Itachi. "My mother would like that."

"That would be an honor," said Hiroki, stepping on Miho's foot to make sure she didn't protest. "Now go and make dinner, Miho."

Miho swore loudly and made her way to the kitchen, rather furious with her father and with Itachi.

Itachi.

He really liked making her life miserable. He really did.

* * *

Miho was flying.

She jumped over the treetops, quickly and easily, her heart beating in anticipation. She was going back to Konoha. After five long years, she was going back. She was presumably dead, true, and her return would definitely cause some sort of investigation to where she'd been for the last five years, but that was fine. She had a good cover, having "woken up with no memory in the Suna." That was a generic but easily proven answer to a long disappearance. Besides, the Suna would back her up.

Five years was a long time. A year or so had been left to her physical recovery; a lethal stab wound was not easy to recover from. The rest of the four years had been left to her training, and she had honed her medical skills to a level much higher than she had ever dreamed of, given her lack of initial motivation. But while five years was enough time to heal physically, it wasn't enough for her to recover fully from the emotional shock of being betrayed and nearly killed by him; she had, after all, trusted him fully, completely, albeit his strange demeanor in the last few months of their relationship. Being nearly killed by him? Fifty years was not enough for her to recover from that.

She merely jumped from a high tree into Konoha. The barriers, the secret defenses, not much had changed since she had last been a shinobi here, and she got in effortlessly. Miho made her way clandestinely to the Hokage's office, scurrying up the wall of the rather round building and simply hopping in through the window.

As expected, there were two kunai at her neck in a matter of split seconds.

"Who are you?" one demanded.

"I come with no ill intentions," she said, holding up her hands to show that she wasn't armed. "I simply wanted to speak with the Hokage."

"Arrest her—" the other one said.

"Wait, I just wanted to speak with him—"

"You could've requested an audience, like everyone else!" the man shouted angrily. "Sneaking into his office—that is a criminal offense!"

"Wait," protested Miho.

"…What's your name?" another voice said from across the room. It was vaguely familiar, and even now, made her heart flutter a bit.

Miho's grey eyes turned in the newcomer's direction, lighting up in recognition. It was Hatake Kakashi.

"Chiaki Miho," she answered, her hands still held up in the air.

"…Detain her," said Kakashi smoothly as he watched her closely.

"Wait, it's me, sempai!" she said.

"Chiaki Miho died five years ago. Judging from the amount of blood on the murder scene, there is no way that she's alive. Detain her, and keep her in the prisons until the Hokage returns," said Kakashi, his voice lined with uncustomary coldness. "If you wanted to play the imposter, you should've chosen someone more plausible."

The two guards moved towards her, but Miho, filled with a surge of annoyance, whipped out her legs and kicked the two of them in the face; as they stumbled, she reached out and tapped each one of them on the pressure points at the bases of their necks. They fell to the ground, knocked out, and she stepped lightly into the office.

Kakashi appeared in front of her instantly, his Sharingan unmasked and his hand pressing a kunai at Miho's neck.

"Don't move," he said lethally.

Miho stared at him, bringing up her hand and gripping his wrist.

"It really is me," she said. "I want to speak to the Hokage—I've been in Suna for the last five years, recovering, and I've been unable to contact Konoha otherwise—"

"Then you can wait in prison to explain to the Hokage," said Kakashi. "Now sleep."

Miho hardly had time to blink. Kakashi whipped his hand out and sank his fist in her stomach. Winded, she coughed out a bit of blood as she felt him press her pressure points hastily.

Well, she hadn't expected any other welcoming gift.

A grim voice sounded in her head. She could place whose voice it was. A mix, probably. Kakashi's. Her father's. Sasuke's. Itachi's.

_Welcome home, Miho. Welcome to Konoha._

* * *

******Free Talk**:

Welcome to A Glass of Crimson Souls!

I've been thinking of a Naruto fic for a while, and after the last chapter (when my love for Itachi was reinvigorated), I decided to make this ItachixOC fic happen. I hope this first chapter wasn't terribly confusing, as it jumps around in time. The following chapters will be much more straightforward, remaining purely in the pre-massacre arc.

Miho's personality isn't fully fleshed out; after all, this is only the first chapter. But hopefully you'll give it a chance to develop with upcoming chapters. :)

Please review! That'd be great. :) And have a Happy 2010!

xoxo,

m.n


	2. Unsure of Perfection

**Chapter 2: Unsure of Perfection**

Dinner was awkward. Miho was colder to Itachi than normal and downright rude to her father. If Itachi found it peculiar, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he was the exact opposite of Miho—polite, gentlemanly, and more than willing to engage in conversation with Hiroki. They spoke of the Academy, Itachi's progress in ANBU, as well as the recent jutsu that Itachi had finally mastered. The conversation did not make Miho any more sociable; she sullenly ate, listening to Hiroki praise Itachi for mastering his Sharingan and being able to create a very impressive genjutsu.

When Miho finished, she stood up to leave, intending to sneak out of the house and go for a solitary walk.

"Miho, wash the dishes," said Hiroki sternly.

"I'll wash mine," she said coolly, "but since I already cooked, I don't feel the need to take up all the burdens of this house, so you can wash your own."

"Miho!"

"I'm going for a walk," she said calmly, rinsing her bowl and drying it.

"What kind of hostess are you?" demanded Hiroki.

"I cooked," she said pointedly, putting her bowl neatly aside. "If you want to play the kind host, you can wash your own dish. Goodbye."

She disappeared from her father's sight, aiming straight for the door. Her lightweight body had always given her an advantage when it came to running away from her father, so she was perturbed when someone managed to catch her by the shoulder before she could exit.

Miho let out a curse, materializing by the doorway as Itachi's firm arm locked around her shoulder, preventing her from leaving.

"What are you doing?" she said coldly, her gray eyes flickering.

"You should be more respectful to your elders," he said in his low timbre, his onyx eyes meeting hers head on. "Your father has asked you to stay."

"And I have every intention of leaving," she answered. "Do not try to stop me from leaving my own house, Uchiha."

"Chiaki-san, I—"

Miho whipped out her leg, feeling it connect with his waist with no little satisfaction, and made a run for it. She then heard a popping noise behind her, and while she did not bother to slow down, it dampened her euphoria, knowing that she had failed to injure him because of his well-constructed Kage Bunshin. And she had not even seen him construct the hand signs for it. Idiot genius.

She leapt off into the distance, her dull silver eyes watching her surroundings. It was not terribly late, but the streets were already empty, and the electric lights were beginning to flicker slowly on, illuminating the alleyways with eerie shadows. Miho swung over a few rails and made her way to the bridge.

The moon was beginning to creep out from behind the clouds, peeking at Miho and almost chastising her for being so rude. Miho ignored it. She was surprised that she even had a conscience anymore, especially when it came to her father. A wry smirk crept to her lips. Consciences were meant to be eliminated to become the perfect shinobi anyway, so she was, in a way, becoming more of a shinobi than she'd intended.

Miho arrived at the bridge, slowing down her pace as she walked onto the smooth wooden platform. She hoisted herself on the rails, lying down in the rather thick boards and watching the clouds pass by over her. She let out a sigh, placing an arm on her forehead as she slowly closed her eyes.

So maybe she shouldn't have been so…antagonistic toward Itachi. But he was irritating. Perfect, genius, precocious and naturally-talented yet honestly chivalrous—everything that she was not. She was the silent, sullen, almost dislikable one. Miho seldom smiled and scowled constantly, was easily irritated and rather antisocial. Most of it had been an effect of Hiroki's influence; had Miho's mother, Chiaki Aki, still been alive, Miho would've turned out very differently.

Aki had been a Healer. Her clan, the Saruji Clan, had been one of the final clans specializing in healing jutsu—their kekkei genkai was a coveted one, difficult to utilize but extremely useful, though detrimental to the user's health—Aki's marriage to Hiroki had technically been forbidden, as Saruji members were supposed to intermarry in order to keep their kekkei genkai line alive and keep the offspring's physical compositions strong.

Hiroki didn't like the Healing arts, believing that they were weak and the signs of cowardice. He'd pushed Miho to the limits for strong offense, but she'd always done badly when it came to offense. She much preferred to sit at the sidelines, watching, sensing…but she hadn't been able to train her chakra sensing as much as she'd liked, nor had she even bothered tackling the latent kekkei genkai inside her.

Miho snapped her eyes open as she sensed someone approach her. She bolted upright, only to see Itachi standing a foot away from her, his dark eyes flickering in amusement at her shock.

"Chiaki-san, your father has asked me to find you and tell you to go home," he said.

"Why do you follow my father's beck and call?" she said coldly, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "Just _ignore_ me, and I'll ignore you. There's no need for us to be associated."

"But that'd be a disgrace to your father on my part—"

"What goes on between my father and me has nothing to do with you," she said icily. "You are an outsider whom I happen to hate. Don't butt in. You don't understand anything."

"Likewise, you don't understand anything with me, either," said Itachi calmly. "Your hatred for me is groundless and petty—I'm simply doing what my teacher asked of me, nothing more, nothing less. I didn't mean to be intrusive, and you're being immature."

"Forgive me," said Miho with chilling mockery. "I did not mean to be petty. Hatred tends to do that to people."

Itachi heaved a sigh, his dark eyes watching her with exasperation.

"Are you always this dislikable?" he asked.

"Very much so," she replied. "You can tell my dear father that I will return home in due time—I'm meditating. Or at least, I was, until I was disturbed by an impertinent idiot."

"Why do you hate me so much, Chiaki?"

"I answered that question earlier today. It's because you're perfect, Uchiha, and I hate perfect people. I hate everything that my father adores, and that includes perfection."

"That's a bit unfair to me, you know," he said, exhaling. "I might be imperfect. You don't know anything about me, really."

"I hate you," said Miho simply. "That's all I need to know."

An expression of some sort flashed over Itachi's normally impassive face: anger, annoyance, as well as a tiny bit of sorrow, it seemed. Miho caught it, and guilt crept up in her chest. Her countenance, however, remained unbearably impassive—she would not yield to him.

"You should go home," said Itachi finally. "We at the Uchiha household will be expecting you and your father tomorrow at six, so please don't be late."

"I'm not going," said Miho stonily. "I'm going out with my sempai, so if you'll please—"

"Why are you so attached to Kakashi-san and the rest?" said Itachi. "Is it because they were some of the few whom both you and your father could acknowledge?"

"Uchiha—"

"Or is there something different?" said Itachi, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Perhaps something…deeper?"

Miho gritted her teeth. Itachi was perceptive—too perceptive. Were her emotions that obvious? Or was he just too good?

"My relationship with my sempai is conveniently none of your business, Uchiha. I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my affairs."

"Affairs," repeated Itachi, and there was a mocking tone to the word. "What could you mean by that?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Uchiha—it's very much out of your character."

"Hmph." He gave a short-lived smirk. "Well, we'll be expecting you tomorrow. My mother's rather anxious to meet you."

"Stop lying and trying to make me guilty in refusing to go—I know for a fact that your mother probably doesn't even know I exist.'

"I beg to differ," said Itachi in that terribly smooth voice of his. "I've mentioned you a few times, and she seems…impressed, to say the least, that you are such a capable kunoichi."

"Flattery will get you nowhere as well," answered Miho. "I'm leaving. Any time arguing with you is time wasted, after all."

"Again, I beg to differ. I seem to have grasped a much better sense of your personality with this conversation."

Miho took a step forward, annoyance getting the better of her rationale. Chakra, always easily flowing through her body, rushed to the tips of her fingers and she swept it up to Itachi's neck in one swift motion, cutting through his thin skin just enough so that blood was drawn.

Itachi did not move.

Their eyes met for but a split second when Itachi disappeared, his figure simply melting away into the night. Behind her.

She spun around, swinging a kunai dexterously around her finger as she gripped the handle and stabbed it forward, catching Itachi's profile by the shoulder. Again, it melted away.

Damn it. Genjutsu.

"Not bad," said Itachi's voice, and once again, he was behind her. His hand snaked up around her waist, catching her arms. His grip was surprisingly firm, holding her stiffly in place. "I always heard from your father that genjutsu was your weakness," he continued. "You can't seem to differentiate the two easily, but your reactions are decent enough for you to avoid most basic illusions."

A copy of Itachi appeared in front of her, and the small smirk on his lips made her blood boil. She struggled fruitlessly against his iron grip—she could not budge.

"I am nowhere near as perfect as you think I am," said Itachi chillingly, sliding his index finger up her throat and forcing her to look into his eyes. She jerked back in surprise, confronted with the famous blood-colored Sharingan, the trademark of the Uchiha clan. Some pressure rippled through her body—suffocating, foreboding, and immense. Her breath came short and she was reduced to gasping for oxygen as the atmosphere around her grew denser, darker—she could not help but feel afraid, repulsed, almost, and looked away.

And then all the tension disappeared; the scene returned to normal, and Miho was released. She collapsed, breathing harshly, as Itachi's footsteps paused right in front of her.

"Forgive me," he said gently, kneeling beside her and helping her up. "I didn't mean to go so far. I was a bit irritated with your behavior, but the punishment was unwarranted."

She slapped his hands away, her grey eyes flashing.

"Don't touch me," she said lethally.

"Again, forgive me," he said genuinely. "My temper slipped."

"I don't give a damn—"

"Well, doesn't this just prove that I'm not as perfect as you think I am?" said Itachi with a tinge of hopefulness in his voice.

"You're right," said Miho, her breathing still ragged. "You're not. You're not perfect. But that doesn't make me hate you any less."

Itachi gave a sigh.

"Then what exactly do you like, Chiaki-san?"

"Nothing. Nothing about you."

Itachi pursed his lips. "I see. So if I somehow managed to turn exactly into Kakashi-san, would you like me any more then?"

Miho made a movement, darting her hand through the air to slap him. She should've known that it was a pointless effort—that Itachi could catch it easily. He did, pulling her hand away from his face and looking apologetic again.

"My tongue slipped," he explained. "I didn't mean it. Sorry."

"Just shut up!" burst out Miho, her typically stainless mask disappearing. "Goodness, stop being so…so sorry! Say what you mean, and mean it! You don't have to go apologizing for everything that annoys me, because you'll just be apologizing for the rest of eternity!"

Itachi looked taken back with her outburst, his grip relaxing. She snatched her wrist out of his hand and stalked off, fuming. She crossed the bridge, muttering a low string of curses under her breath, as she headed home. How _annoying_. She'd almost been _glad_ when he'd retaliated with his genjutsu—it meant that he was actually _human_, could actually get angry. The idiot—how could he even stand to be in her presence for more than ten minutes, especially with the attitude she held towards him?

And _she_ herself—Miho, herself—was being too paradoxical for her own good. She couldn't make up her mind if she was feeling vindictive or culpable.

It took her a little while, considering how stealthy and well-concealed his chakra was, but Miho noticed that he was following her back home, though from a short distance away. She stopped, hoary eyes glaring again.

"You don't have to escort me," she said irritably. "Just go home. It'd be much faster anyway."

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I can't seem to do that."

"…Stop apologizing," she said, turning around and ignoring the tinge that grew to her cheeks. "Especially with a smile—it makes you seem insincere."

"Sorry that tha—…never mind." He sped up his pace, joining her on her right. The distance between then shrank to a foot. He made an effort to pick up the conversation again, but seemed to decide against it. They walked silently back through the alleys to Miho's house, where they finally slowed down to a stop.

"…I'd like to extend my invitation to you again," said Itachi as Miho climbed the stairs to her front door. "Six o'clock tomorrow, at the main Uchiha residence. My family would like to meet you."

Miho didn't answer, but instead just stared at him, letting the wind blow gently around their profiles.

"It's been…interesting," said Itachi finally. "It was a pleasure walking you home."

He began to leave, most likely assuming that Miho would not answer anything further. A strange emotion seized her, and she finally spoke.

"I'll be there," she said.

He stopped and turned around, smiling a bit.

"…Good."

Miho nodded jerkily and went inside her house without another word. Her cheeks felt quite warm as she closed the door behind her, enveloping her in darkness. Itachi. He was really a perfect idiot.

* * *

"So…" Miho said awkwardly the next day at tea, "I can't go out to dinner again."

Kakashi, Kurenai, and Asuma just looked at her with amused expressions. She avoided their gazes, studying the ANBU mask in her hand intently.

"So," said Kurenai with feigned indifference, "how did it go with Itachi-kun yesterday?"

Miho ignored the question deliberately and continued her apology.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "I will have to take up your offer some other time."

"Eh, we pretty much thought you'd be out with Itachi again anyway," said Asuma admittedly. "So—"

"What do you mean?" said Miho darkly. "You thought it was obvious he'd…win over me somehow?"

"Well, he has a way with women, to some extent," confessed Kurenai. "We thought it was only natural—"

"I'm only going over to his house to eat because my father's making me," said Miho with large bouts of annoyance. "Don't get the wrong idea—the day I like him is the day Kakashi-sempai comes to a meeting on time."

"Fine, fine," yawned Kakashi. "I would like to know how it goes, Miho. It'd be good for you to at least make a friend your age, you know—"

"You're my age," said Miho stubbornly.

"I'm seven years older than you, Miho. That's hardly your age."

Disappointment settled in Miho's stomach, and she stared at her mask.

"Itachi seems like a good kid," said Kakashi thoughtfully. "You'll get along well with him."

The constant discussion of Itachi made Miho feel worse than she already did. She stood up, tossing a few bills on the table for her tea.

"I'll see you later," she said shortly, standing up and leaving.

Kurenai sighed as Miho's slim figure left. Women's intuition picked up on things that men were keenly oblivious to.

"Smart, Kakashi," said the beauteous woman dryly.

"What?" said Kakashi innocently. "I only was speaking the truth. She will get along well with him."

Kurenai just shook her head and sipped her tea. Oh well. It wasn't like Miho and Kakashi were very compatible anyway.

* * *

"Welcome!" said a plain yet somehow comely woman as the two member Chiaki family made its way to the Uchiha doorstep. "Ah, Hiroki-sensei, it's an honor to have you here."

"It's my pleasure," said Hiroki with a bow. "It's good to see you, Mikoto-san. Is Fugaku in?"

"Yes, he's most likely discussing something with Itachi," answered Mikoto, whom Miho guessed to be Itachi's mother. Mikoto's eyes landed on Miho, and the mother smiled. "So this must be Miho-chan! Pleased to meet you. I've heard such wonderful things about you."

Hiroki raised an eyebrow at this statement, but Miho ignored it and gave a short bow.

"Thanks for having us."

"Please, this way…Fugaku and Itachi will be out in a minute. Oh, Sasuke, goodness, why do you _have_ to find your brother?" Mikoto said exasperatedly to a little boy who bounded up to her with an excited look on his face. "Greet the guests politely, Sasuke. This is Hiroki-sensei, who teaches the highest class at the Academy—you'll have him someday as a teacher."

"Nice to meet you," said the boy politely, bowing deeply. He seemed to be a…very cute child. Sasuke then turned to look at Miho. "Who are you?" he said in a completely different tone that was bordering rudeness. Fine, cross her earlier thought—he was _not_ cute. Impertinent brat.

Mikoto whacked Sasuke lightly on the head.

"This is Miho-san," said Mikoto severely. "She's about the same age as your brother and is a very good kunoichi in this village—"

"My brother is better than you, isn't he?" said Sasuke.

Definitely not cute at all.

The discourteous statement of fact earned Sasuke another whack on the head.

"Sasuke…" said Mikoto warningly.

"Sorry, Okaa-san."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Miho-chan. Now, why don't you lead her to Nii-san's room—I think Otou-san is finished speaking with him."

As if on cue, Uchiha Fugaku walked down the stairs, joining the rest of them. With a chin that was always rigid and squared, Fugaku came off as the extremely stern type. Miho could not see the physical relationship between someone as good looking as Itachi and his father.

Fugaku glanced in Miho's direction, as if analyzing her, before giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment. Miho bowed curtly again, feeling unsure of the verdict of his judgment, before her father pushed her to follow Sasuke, who was already bounding up the stairs to another room.

She stepped quietly away, taking her time as she took in the exterior designs of the house. Very plain, though it held a regal sense of some sort, emanating from the sleek wooden walls and the unadorned floor. A shadow stopped up ahead of her.

"Nii-san's waiting for you," said Sasuke, peering down at her.

Miho climbed up the rest of the stairs and followed the child to Itachi's room, where the prodigy was sitting calmly at a desk. He looked up upon their entrance, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Chiaki-san," greeted Itachi. "Glad that you made it."

"…No problem," she replied, sitting down formally at the table.

"Sasuke, would you go get some tea?" asked Itachi.

"I don't want to," pouted Sasuke. "You always tell me to go away, Nii-san—she probably doesn't want any tea anyway."

"Sorry," sighed Itachi to Miho. "He's not usually this rude."

"Hey, I can hear you, Nii-san!"

"It's fine, I don't need anything," said Miho stiffly, looking around the room. Like the rest of his house, Itachi's room was neat, orderly, but lacked personality, save for pride. The Uchiha crest, a red and white fan, was hanging on one wall, but that was the only decoration.

Sasuke was staring at her.

"What is it?" said Miho bluntly.

"I'm just wondering how good you are," said Sasuke honestly. "I know Nii-san is the best ninja in the village at his age, so you must not be that great."

"Yeah," said Miho tiredly, not willing to bicker. "I'm not."

Sasuke blinked at her self-deprecating statement, evidently unsure on how to reply. Itachi chuckled, getting down from his desk and sitting across from Miho.

"My father and I were talking earlier," said Itachi, "and it seems that ANBU has assigned us a mission."

"…Us?" said Miho warily.

Itachi nodded. "Looks like we're going to be on the same platoon. It should be quite a big mission."

Miho looked uneasily down at Sasuke, who was listening very carefully. "Are you sure…you should be telling me this now?"

Itachi shrugged. "Sasuke won't do anything like blab. He knows that the secrets of the family are to remain in the family."

Sasuke nodded proudly, but the action didn't alleviate Miho's anxiety any. Itachi continued with his explanation.

"We're to go to the Land of the Mist," said Itachi quietly. "There seems to be someone amidst ANBU who is leaking out information, and we need to infiltrate their headquarters to find out how much they know, and possibly who's the culprit."

"Isn't that risky?" said Miho. "They'll most likely know that we're coming ahead of time."

Again, Itachi shrugged, obviously not worried.

"It shouldn't be that difficult of a mission. Considering your caliber, we should be okay."

"You mean considering _your_ caliber," said Miho dryly.

Itachi smirked. "True, but I didn't want to say that for fear of sounding conceited."

Mikoto's voice filtered through the door, calling from downstairs.

"Sasuke! Could you come here and help me out with dinner?"

"I'm busy!"

"Sasuke!"

"Fine," grumbled the younger brother, standing up and exiting. "Nii-san, you better train with me later…"

"Sure, sure," said Itachi, waving him away.

An awkward silence settled over them as Sasuke left them.

"So…" said Miho, "I'm guessing you're the platoon leader for this mission?"

Itachi nodded. "I hope you don't mind."

"So when do we leave?"

"Two days time."

Another stiff silence fell, for Miho felt no need to continue the conversation. Itachi just smiled at her, and she felt a ripple of annoyance course through her. How irritating.

"I'm glad we can work together," he said. "I've always wanted to see you in action."

"Why are you so interested in me?" said Miho evenly. "You sound like a creep."

Itachi chuckled. "Creep? That's not kind. I'm just interested in you because you hate me, that's all. I don't like being hated by someone I hardly know."

"Your way of flirting sucks," said Miho crassly.

Itachi simply chuckled again and beckoned for her to follow him downstairs.

"Time for dinner. Hopefully it'll go better than yesterday," he added with a meaningful look.

Miho grimaced. So he had noticed her immaturity. Worse, he wasn't perturbed by it. He was amused.

* * *

Dinner passed by pleasantly, to say the least. Miho remained silent most of the time as Hiroki and Fugaku talked quite a bit, about the affairs of the village, about the Uchiha clan and their underappreciated role as the police, about Itachi and his amazing skills. It was a typical dinner conversation. Hiroki seemed adamant in ignoring Miho, but Fugaku brought her up of his own accord.

"Your daughter…Miho, is it?" said Fugaku, looking at Miho.

Hiroki nodded.

"Yes, she's my only child."

"I hear she's quite the accomplished shinobi."

"Nothing compared to Itachi, Fugaku-san."

"Itachi is one of those rare prodigies," said Fugaku seriously. "He's also greatly helped by his kekkei genkai…speaking of which, has Miho-san activated hers? If memory serves me correctly, her mother was of the Saruji clan, no? A wonderful bloodline. Too bad it died out."

"Yes, well," said Hiroki uneasily, "Miho has not yet activated the Ishachi yet…"

"Only because you hate it," said Miho suddenly, finishing the food on her plate.

The table grew silent to stare at her. Miho looked unrelentingly back at her father, who was aghast at her outburst.

"Sorry," she said unrepentantly. "My tongue slipped."

"Well," said Itachi in an attempt to recover the conversation, "the Ishachi…I heard it's very difficult to use, so it's no surprise you haven't activated it yet."

"Healing Blood," murmured Fugaku. "It's detrimental to the user though, isn't it? I heard that none of the Saruji clan lived past forty…"

"It depends on how much one uses it," responded Miho, her eyes closing as she drank her tea. "Unlike the Uchiha Sharingan, our kekkei genkai spreads through our entire body. Chakra is therefore circulated along with our blood, making its user weary easily if it's used too often. If one forces it to last longer, it'll draw slowly on the life force of the user."

"…I see," said Fugaku thoughtfully. "So what exactly can it do? I heard of its healing abilities, but—"

"Most of the Saruji clan consisted of medic-nins," interrupted Miho rudely. "Offense-wise, the clan members were weaker…they belonged in the hospital, on the sidelines…since chakra so readily flows through with their blood, they had an extremely easy grasp over chakra control in their individual body parts. Many became sensors if they didn't want to waste their life force on the medical field. Those who became medics…they were more useful…"

"I heard that drinking the blood of an Ishachi user could heal extensive wounds," remarked Itachi, "and that the users could absorb the wounds of others at the risk of their own health."

"You heard correctly," said Miho calmly. "The wounds would accumulate though, dilapidating the Saruji's health. It was also a contributor to their short life spans…"

"How do you know so much?" questioned Hiroki, his eyes narrowed. He had made it a point never to answer any questions Miho had about her mother or her clan, deeming it useless and unnecessary. According to him, it would never matter if she activated her kekkei genkai or not.

"I read it," she replied. "Okaa-san's journals…she left them around the house, documenting every patient she saw."

Another silence fell around them after Miho's words, for anyone could sense the anger that was crawling up in Hiroki's features. Miho shrugged it off apathetically, standing up and collecting her plate as well as Sasuke's empty one.

"Oh, no," said Mikoto, standing up with her. "I'll clean up—you're the guest, please sit down."

"It's fine," said Miho with a rare smile. "I'm used to cleaning up, and I'll feel bad if you clean up by yourself…"

Mikoto seemed genuinely touched at this, and smiled broadly at Miho.

"Well, I suppose I can't refuse you if you say it like that," she laughed. "Here, I'll help…"

Miho retreated into the Uchiha's kitchen; she couldn't help but feel apprehensive at her father's murderous aura rising behind her.

* * *

"So…the Ishachi," said Itachi as he placed a bowl in the sink for Miho to wash, "I had a few more questions…"

Miho continued to sponge a plate with soap, listening. When he didn't continue, she looked up at him and met his eyes. Dark, strong, bold…and kind, in a way. She flushed, looking away.

"Why are you blushing?" he said, standing closer to her.

"I'm not," she said, her eyes fixated on the plate she was washing. She was being overly conscious of the strong arms placed near her, his tan skin, muscular chest that was so prominent even through his black casual shirt, the lingering feeling of warmth as he breathed against her cheek.

"Do…you like me, perhaps?" he asked. "Aesthetically, at least?"

"What kind of question is that?" she said coldly, rinsing the plate and setting it aside. Much to her relief, Itachi stepped away and took the plate, drying it with a clean towel.

"Sorry," he said, a smile on his face again. "I tend to get conceited sometimes…"

"…What were your questions?" she inquired, desperate for the conversation to take a turn.

"Oh, right. Well, for one, I was wondering why your father didn't want you to know anything about the Saruji clan. I would think he would encourage you to activate your bloodline limit."

"Believe it or not," snorted Miho, "my father actually liked my mother. When she died, he hated everything that caused her death—mainly, the Ishachi. Okaa-san was a bit too self-sacrificing and never thought twice of assimilating a wound from someone else. She was also rather weak, physically, and so she passed away early."

"I see…" murmured Itachi. "So he's never asked you to try and activate your kekkei genkai either."

"Who knows, I might not have it," she said, knowing full well that it was a lie. "I don't want to activate it either, really."

Itachi cocked his head to the side in inquiry.

"Why?"

"I'm not like my mother. I'm not willing to take the wounds of others, or to help them by cutting myself open and weakening myself," she replied frankly.

"…That's not exactly the shinobi way," he said, and his voice was a bit darker than before.

"Sorry," said Miho unapologetically. "I don't harbor any particular love for the shinobi way, or for Konoha. I'm a rather selfish person."

"Then what exactly are you a shinobi for?" he said, turning off the water and forcing her to look at him. His onyx eyes were gleaming in a strange way, as if he were demanding an answer. He was angry—latent though his emotions were, she could sense that, at least. "To be a shinobi, you must have to protect something, have a passion for—"

"I have a passion for the people I care for," she said indifferently. "If there's someone I were to like and love, then with them, my loyalty would lie. I'm a shinobi not for Konoha, but for the individuals who live in it."

Itachi remained silent, his hand still cupping her chin. Miho could feel his warm breath near her mouth, and pulled away immediately. She turned on the faucet again and resumed washing.

Itachi laughed quietly, but the sound was not of amusement. It was darker, uneasy, almost.

"I'm jealous, in a way," he said softly. "To think in that mindset…I would be overwhelmed in guilt every second of my living."

"…I know," she answered. "That just proves my point—you're perfect. You're brilliant, strong, genius—and yet you're not conceited. You're self-sacrificial." She gave a wry smile. "The perfect shinobi, mm?"

He looked at her oddly, as if absorbing her words. Itachi reached over and took the bowl from her hands, pushing her gently to the side.

"Your hands will be damaged if you wash the dishes all the time," he said quietly. "I'll take it from here."

Miho looked at him incredulously, opening her mouth to give an indignant response, but shut it as she realized that she was being dismissed.

He was really angry.

"…See, it's natural for us to hate each other," she said acidly. "My logic doesn't work for you, my personality is hateful to you, and I annoy you. So let's stop it with the courtesies, how about it?"

"You don't annoy me," said Itachi, rinsing a bowl. "I can follow your logic perfectly."

"Then why are you angry?"

"I'm not."

Miho scoffed, shifting uneasily on her feet.

"Your logic makes sense," he continued. "It's in your personality—which I also don't hate. I can appreciate it." He gave a brief smile. "I'm interested to see how your words will match your actions on our mission." He handed her the bowl. "Here, dry this."

She took the bowl, startled. So she hadn't been dismissed. He wanted her to stay nearby? The absurdity of her thoughts…

They lapsed into silence, the quietness blanketing their atmosphere, turning it into something neither hateful nor lovable. She snuck a glance at Itachi's face. His eyes were dark. So dark. Shadowed.

Perfect or no? She could not be sure anymore.

* * *

**Free Talk**:

Yay, great reception for the first chapter! :) Thanks for reviewing! Sorry that this came out a bit slow--the beginning's always really boring. Hopefully the pace will start speeding up though.

So I've decided just to keep it in the past and gradually progress. I think flashing back and forth will be too confusing and will disrupt the flow of the story.

I'm wondering if I've made Itachi OOC, but again, he doesn't turn unbearably emotionless until after the massacre, so let's hope he's not OOC right now! :) It's still taking me time for Miho's personality to develop, but it'll get there. I'm also hoping she's not Mary-Sue--it's harder to make a non-Mary-Sue character in a canon story. I want to say she's okay though.

Oh, and just for kicks, the Ishachi is totally made up. I just googled the Japanese word for "healer" and "blood" and thought they sounded fine when I mashed them together, haha.

Please review! My love for this series has been rejuvenated as of the last few chapters in the manga. (Yes, Karin, just die. Fall off the face of the earth. No one loves you.) So review!! I'll try to update sooner. Oh, and discussion will be on my LJ later!

xoxo,

m.n


	3. Personality Analysis

**Chapter 3: Personality Analysis **

"So you're going on your first mission," said Kakashi as he and Miho sat lazily at the edge of the river, watching the sunset. "Congratulations."

"There's no need for congrats," Miho answered. "It's just a mission."

"All the same," said Kakashi simply, leaning back on the grass. "It's a bit nerve-wracking the first time, you know. I'm sure you'll be fine though—you seem to have a capable mission leader to take care of you in case you falter."

"I won't falter," said Miho flatly.

Kakashi gave a sigh at her stubbornness.

"How did it go?" he asked. "Dinner, I mean."

"It was fine," she said sullenly, disliking the turn of conversation. "We somehow got on the subject of me and my kekkei genkai—or, rather, lack of."

Miho let out a breath and lied down on the grass, staring straight up at the sky and watching as the royal purple colors blended in with the luscious pink colors emanating around some deeper-colored clouds. Kakashi seemed to understand that she'd slipped back into one of her moodier moments, for he did not attempt to continue the conversation.

This was one of the reasons why Miho liked Kakashi. He was so smart, so sensible—he knew when she did not want to talk and was perfectly fine with just staying by her, keeping her in silent yet comfortable company.

"Do you think my reason for being a shinobi is selfish?" she asked, breaking the quietness.

"…Depends," said Kakashi, his eyes closing. "I think the essence of being a ninja is to fight for the village, not for the individuals. There is always a sense of…patriotism involved."

"…So you don't think I should be a shinobi then," she said dourly.

"I never said that," said Kakashi, smiling a bit as he turned to face her, "though I must say that this topic—which you so often avidly try to avoid—is an odd one for you to bring up by yourself. Let me guess—it came up around Itachi-kun, and he, the perfect ninja who holds the village up as his greatest pride, said a few things that made you reconsider your reason for fighting."

"He didn't say anything offensive, if that's what you mean," Miho said almost defensively. "He was very polite about it—but I could tell that I'd irritated him."

"So?" said Kakashi with a bit of amusement. "I'd normally assume that you would care less if you annoyed him—change of heart, Miho? Perhaps Itachi-kun is not as bad as you thought?"

"Sempai," said Miho angrily, "don't be stupid. He's just as annoying as I made him out to be."

"I do hope your attitude will change after your mission," chuckled Kakashi. "It'd be nice if you started to like him more."

The way Kakashi had said his last sentence made Miho's eyes narrow.

"What do you mean, like him more?" she questioned. "As in a friend way? Or are you implying something else?"

Kakashi grinned from beneath his mask, his one visible eye flickering lazily.

"At least you catch on quickly," he remarked.

"I don't _like_ Uchiha," she said coolly. "Not even in the slightest. Not even as a friend. Stop getting absurd ideas, sempai."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea if you started liking someone…perhaps a bit more than a friend," he commented, obviously not listening to her warning. "It would help with your emotional development."

"Aren't all shinobi supposed to squash out any emotions?" said Miho coldly.

"Well, yes, but I don't believe that."

A silence ensued as Miho stared at a completely oblivious Kakashi with utter annoyance. An acidic emotion rose up in her chest—the words came tumbling out of her mouth before she could even think about her consequences.

"I do like someone—more than a friend."

Kakashi met her gaze, interested.

"Really?" he asked. "Who? I wasn't aware that you were acquainted with anyone your age."

Miho bit her lower lip. "He's not."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"…I thought you were smart," said Miho.

"…I'm often told that, but that's not necessarily true," said Kakashi apprehensively. "Do I, er, know this person? Oh dear, I hope it's not Asuma—"

"Kakashi," Miho all but snarled, "you're a dumbass."

Miho stood up, beginning to leave, when Kakashi caught her by the wrist. She turned around, irritated and about to unleash a few caustic words, but stopped upon seeing the seriousness in his one dark eye.

"I know," he said quietly. "I've been enlightened of your feelings for a while now, Miho. But I—we aren't compatible. I'm older than you by a good bit, our generations don't overlap—the feelings that you hold aren't what you think they are, Miho. You're attracted to me because you—forgive my arrogance—can rely on me. Much unlike how you rely on your father. And I'm saying that it can't—or couldn't—work out between us. The…age disparity is too great."

"It's seven years," she said icily, growing aware of the stinging sensation crawling up in her eyes. "It's not that bad—once I reach twenty, it won't make the slightest difference—"

"Miho," said Kakashi gently, "I'm sorry. I assure you—I am extremely fond of you, but only as a guardian of some sort. I'm afraid I can't say the same for me."

The way he said everything—extremely smoothly, extremely confidently—and was that a hint of condescension?—it all irritated her. Miho gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing again, but she didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say.

It was more like if she did say something, she'd probably have some flaky emotion come weeping up inside of her and turn her into something—a crybaby—that she was not.

Her hands clenched into fists and she nodded curtly.

"Right," she said, her throat dry, hurting from the effort it took to talk without having her voice shake, and even with the effort, it still shook. "I'm going now."

She jumped off above Kakashi, over the edge of the walls, and bounded out of sight, leaving him behind. And leaving herself behind as well.

* * *

Mask. Kunai. Shuriken. Steel wires. Bombs.

Food pills, because she couldn't eat under stress and because they were easy to carry.

Medicine, because she couldn't get the natural medical instinct out of her genes.

Miho stood in her room, her gray eyes flickering to the clock on her wall. Ten 'til twenty one o'clock. She'd have to get going.

Her father's chakra joined hers in the room, and she turned around to see him. Hiroki stared at her intently, nodding as he assessed everything she had prepared.

"The first mission is always nerve-wracking," he said. "Be sure not to lose your head."

Miho nodded. "I won't."

"Your mission leader is Itachi-kun. Be sure to listen to him as well as the rest of your platoon—you're the rookie here, and thus the least experienced. There's much you can learn from them."

Miho did not want to acknowledge this fact verbally, for some reason. She'd met the rest of her platoon earlier, the day before. And they had been nothing short of derogatory. She was the only female on the team. And the youngest. Though only younger than Itachi by a short amount…

She nodded again.

"…Do well," said Hiroki almost gently. It was a tone that she had not heard from him in a long time. A tone of close encouragement…and it was strange.

"I will," she said, nodding for a third time. "I have to go."

Hiroki closed his eyes, letting out a brief sigh.

"Then go."

Miho glanced at her father, unable to scrutinize his expression and decipher any further meaning from his out-of-the-ordinary tone. Realizing that she was actually feeling uncomfortable with the atmosphere that had settled around them, she turned to go. Without another word, she bounded out of the window, into the night.

The air whipped around her cheeks as she aimed for the main gates, where they were supposed to meet. She snapped her mask into place and landed on the ground softly; simultaneously, the other three joined her.

There were two rather tall figures—the older members of ANBU. The third profile, only a few inches taller than Miho, was obviously Itachi, especially judging from his so very well concealed chakra.

"All here?" said Itachi's muffled voice from behind his mask.

"As seen," replied another male's voice, deeper and gruffer than Itachi's smooth one. Hatori.

"It's exactly twenty-one o'clock," said the other, a softer and yet threatening voice. Akira.

She only knew their first names, if those were their names at all. They didn't waste time on names. In fact, they just called Itachi "Uchiha." And called Miho "girl."

Not that she minded. The constant degrading address was annoying, true, but she was more refined than to actually mention her irritation.

"Shall we move out?" asked Hatori.

A nod from Itachi's figure. His pale white mask bobbed up and down.

"Let's go."

Akira seemed determined to have the last word.

"Don't slow us down, girl."

Miho bit back her response as they all leapt up into the air. She was more refined than to voice her annoyance…but it was getting a bit difficult.

* * *

"The Land of Mist," said Itachi's voice as the group flew through the forest, "is about a full three days' time away. We'll stop halfway there, then a few kilometers away from the border for rest, then infiltrate at night."

The rest of the trip was conducted in silence. Or at least, it should have, had it not been for Akira's persistence in getting on Miho's nerves.

"Why the hell did they ask a fourteen year old girl to come with us?" muttered Akira none too quietly. "She'll just drag us down…"

No one answered. So Akira just continued.

"Fourteen…" he almost grumbled. "Her father probably just—"

"Akira-san, I must ask you to stop it with your nonsensical mumbling," said Itachi, his tone nearly piercing. "If you have nothing productive to say, please don't say anything at all."

The command—or rather, charisma—that Itachi held for a fourteen year old teenager was incredible. Akira, nearly twice Itachi's age, was silenced upon hearing the underlying threat in his voice. Miho felt an unnecessary wave of relief wash over her.

Disgusting, having to rely on Itachi to shut up whoever was annoying her.

She wished she could've had Itachi shut Kakashi that easily up as well. Her thoughts could not help but turn back to Kakashi. And she could not help growing, as usual, irritated. That seemed to be her best state of mind lately.

But even though Miho felt disappointed, sad, upset, she did not feel _devastated_. Which was what she had been expecting to feel. Perhaps she had become rather emotionally detached. It was a good attribute of a kunoichi, wasn't it? Lack of substance. Lack of personality.

Just a killing machine. One who thought for the Village. Not the Individual.

She had been meaning to fight for Kakashi, ever since Kakashi and she had grown close. He had been her…important figure, the reason for becoming a shinobi because she didn't want any reason to fight for her father. She hadn't needed one. But she needed a reason to fight, to become a ninja…and she didn't have one anymore.

Miho realized that Itachi had switched formation with Akira, allowing the two older shinobi to take the lead. He fell back with Miho, falling into step beside her.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly. "You're the leader—you should be in the front."

"We are in no immediate danger," he answered. "Hatori-san and Akira-san are better acquainted than I am with either, so they'll work better together. I'm also under the impression that Akira-san is always relatively irritated with your presence."

"…That's comforting," said Miho.

"I could say that the feeling is apparently mutual between the two of you, so there's no love lost."

"True."

A silence, for Miho did not attempt to elaborate upon her one-word response.

"…So…" said Itachi slowly, "is something wrong?"

"No," she replied. "Why do you think so?"

"I just think it's strange for you to be quiet," he remarked. "Well, you're quiet, normally. Sullen…not so much."

Miho arched an eyebrow, even though Itachi couldn't see her reaction. Her voice, however, revealed her skepticism.

"You think you know me," she said.

"Just as you think the same of me," he returned. "I, however, am rather…well, forgive me for my arrogance, but I'm rather confident in my analysis in other people's personalities…"

"Perhaps," said Miho. "But I seem to have deduced—you don't really like upsetting people, do you?"

"…Well, does anyone?"

"I don't care," she responded. "But you seem to know that I don't like…arrogance, for whenever you say something that could be interpreted as egotistical, you say 'forgive me for my arrogance.' You're too conscious of what others think of you."

"Not particularly what others think of me," he corrected. "More like I just don't want others to be upset."

"It's the same thing."

"Not really. But that's not the point—shall we return to the original question, Chiaki-san? Is something wrong?"

"…No," she answered for a second time.

"…I am a rather persistent person," he said after a pause. "You know I will keep asking this question until I wheedle an answer that I deem satisfactory out of you."

"And you know that I will not cave in to a stranger."

"Stranger?" he repeated. "I feel like we are a bit better acquainted than that."

"Uchiha. The first decent conversation we've had occurred less than a week ago. There has not been enough time for us to be better acquainted."

"Only because you have not given up enough time for us to do so."

"Are you flirting with me?"

He chuckled softly, a smooth rumble at the base of his elegant throat. It was a pleasant sound, one of deep amusement and humor. The realization that she rather liked the sound passed through her head.

"Flirting, not the right word," he said. "I am just trying to make up for the time we have lost in perhaps deepening our otherwise superficial bond."

"We don't need to deepen our 'bond,' Uchiha," said Miho. "I feel no need to rely on you."

"That's a shame. I'm the leader, after all. You should feel the need to rely on me, seeing as you're the…rookie."

"No," said Miho. "I can do fine on my own."

"…Forgive me for my intrusion, but you don't really believe that, do you?"

"…No," she confessed. "I don't have enough self-confidence to believe I can do well by myself on my first mission. But it doesn't increase my need to rely on you any more."

"More like increase your _desire_ to rely on me. Your desire to rely on someone lies solely with…a particular masked, silver-haired sempai back at the village, mm?"

Miho did not answer, biting her tongue as she struggled to control her chakra from rippling in anger. She was unsuccessful; a rift appeared in her chakra course, near the veins of her heart, as it began to beat a bit faster.

"Ah," said Itachi in understanding, and she knew that he had sensed her change in temperament. "I struck a nerve."

"Uchiha, this is an extremely unprofessional attitude you are taking with me," she said, anger lacing her voice. "Kindly refrain from being nosy."

"Forgive me," he said. "I didn't mean to prod."

There was no sincerity in his voice—rather, amusement lined it. And his chakra was as perfectly controlled as ever.

Miho lapsed into silence, stabilizing her chakra again. No point in getting angry. All it did was let him earn a point in their little analysis game.

* * *

"We split," said Itachi as they put out their campfire.

It was the third night, and they were already close enough to the village to be wary of their surroundings. Wind graced the otherwise stagnant air; the moon shone overhead fully, brightly, illuminating the ground. Both an advantage and a hindrance.

"Akira-san, Hatori-san," continued Itachi, "infiltrate through the back of the village—Chiaki-san and I will go from the top. Wait until we infiltrate first, then we'll send you a signal. Hopefully undetected, we will meet at the city's storage room of records. This shouldn't be an extremely difficult mission _as long as we're undetected_. We're not aiming to kill. We're aiming to find the spy—just look in the records for who passed along information from Konoha that wasn't meant to be released."

"Roger," said the older two. "We'll leave first then."

"Right. Chiaki-san, follow me."

They split, leaping into the air as the fire's smoldering ashes collapsed onto the ground. Miho and Itachi ran in silence for a few minutes, arriving at the edge of the forest, a few meters away from the front of the village. Miho could discern the distinctive shape of three guards patrolling outside through the thick fog that hung around the wooden pillars possessively.

"From above?" said Miho.

Itachi nodded, his cat-like mask gleaming in the moonlight.

"We better send a decoy," he said, "to prod for an opening at the top. Most villages forget to install a barrier at the top, but we'd best be careful. Perhaps a Kage Bunshin, or—"

"I can Summon something," she said, placing her palms together. "I Summon birds—they'll work."

She pressed her palms together in the right formation, closing her eyes briefly and utilizing a bit of chakra.

_Kuchiyose no Jutsu!_

There was a slight popping sound, a small billow of smoke, and a crow appeared in her hand, flapping its wings soundlessly. Miho caught it by the legs and clamped a hand around its beak, preventing it from flying up or squawking.

"…Crows?" said Itachi, surprised.

"Yeah," said Miho with a scowl. "I hate them."

At her statement, the crow struggled harder to escape her grasp. Miho clamped it down tighter.

"Look," she hissed by its petite head, "all you need to do is fly up over that village and see if there's an opening that we can get through in without being found. Understand?"

The crow nodded fervently. She heard Itachi sigh.

"It's not going to listen to you," he said. "Not when you treat it that way."

Miho noticed that Itachi had placed his hands together in the _Kuchiyose_ sign as well.

"Why are you—"

Another popping sound, and a blackbird flew up from Itachi's hands, soaring into the air, then landing down gracefully on Itachi's shoulder.

"We're a pair, you and I," he observed. "It seems like we Summon the same animal: crows."

If Itachi could've seen Miho's expression at the moment—one of utter disbelief mixed with strong bouts of revulsion—he would've laughed. Unfortunately, her mask covered her face, sparing Itachi from a good bit of amusement and Miho from an equal amount of mortification.

"Go with your little companion to find an entrance, mm?" he told his crow. "Hurry back and tell us where."

"Be right back then," said the crow, its voice a lilting feminine one.

Miho's mouth dropped.

"They talk?"

"Of course they do," he said. "All the Summoned animals talk."

"Why do they never talk with me?" she said indignantly. "That was one of the reasons I always Summoned Pakkun—the dog could speak!"

"You manhandle them," said Itachi, reaching over and unclasping Miho's hands, allowing her crow to soar into the air with its companion. "Treat them a little better—perhaps you shouldn't say you hate them—and they'll serve you better in return."

"How compassionate," snorted Miho.

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it? That's how you and Kakashi-sempai grew close, right?"

Again, Miho kept her tongue in check, turning her focus onto her chakra. She would not approach this subject with Itachi. For some reason, it made her all prickly inside.

"He was kind to you, a reaction that you were not used to. Gradually, you opened up to that kind of niceness, and you treated him with respect as well—the respect that you refused to give to your father."

"How is that any of your business?" said Miho coldly.

"…Like I said…I'm confidence in personality analysis."

Miho took a step closer to him, fury evident in her voice as she spoke again.

"Is this all a game to you, Uchiha? Figuring me out? Just because I don't like you? Let me tell you—this isn't working. If you think we can get _close_ just because you can figure me out, you thought wrong. You repel me."

"Yet at the same time, I attract you," he said, completely unfazed. Before she could voice her resentment, he said, "While I'd love to continue this conversation, Chiaki-san, I'm afraid our birds have returned. The mission comes first."

"Of course," she said frostily, regaining her composure and backing away. "After all, that's all Mr. _Perfect_ cares about—the mission, the village, not having others be _upset_. Everything else comes first before you, don't they?"

She triumphantly detected a ripple of anger in his chakra.

"Perhaps. Yet I must say that sometimes, Chiaki-san, you are quite aggravating, and I begin to think that my own emotional well-being comes before yours."

Ha. A point for her.

* * *

Miho landed swiftly and silently onto the ground in the middle of the village square. Itachi followed almost immediately, beckoning for her to follow him. As they were running, Itachi placed his palms together, muttering something under his breath, and as his chakra dipped a bit lower, Miho knew that somewhere out there, Akira and Hatori had gotten the signal and would enter the village soon after.

"Should you be using your chakra so much?" she inquired as they ducked through the alleyways. "You should be saving it for when you use your Sharingan—"

"I forgot about your Saruji blood—so you can sense my chakra reserves that well."

"…Just the…amount of your chakra, and sometimes any disturbances."

"…So we're even," he said, "as my Sharingan can see your chakra, and I can sense emotions."

"Right," said Miho evenly, "but that wasn't my point—Sharingan drains your chakra, so you should let me do all the signals and whatnot—"

"I've come to the point with my Sharingan where it hardly drains my chakra," he said confidently. "I could actually use it all day and hardly feel exhausted by the end of it."

"…I see," was all she could muster in reply. She tried not to sound impressed. Which she really was.

"You're probably around Kakashi-san a lot, and his chakra drains easily when he uses Sharingan because he doesn't have an Uchiha body, so the toll is larger on him," continued Itachi. "It's different for me—I've inherited the blood, the body, and the eyes of generations of pure Uchiha."

"…Lucky you," she said.

He chuckled again, and Miho could tell that his aggravation had been short-lived. He was obviously not one to bear grudges, nor was he short-tempered. She frowned. Again with the perfection in disposition.

"Seeing as you're quite the chakra sensor then, see if Hatori-san and Akira-san have made it in," he said. "I'll focus on finding the best route inside the records room."

Miho closed her eyes, bending deep into the folds of her mind and expanding her senses—she skidded over the unfamiliar chakras of all the village inhabitants, some sleeping, some awake, and finally detected the semi-familiar auras of her colleagues.

"They're here," she said. "About two hundred meters to the east."

"They're farther than I thought," he murmured. "Did they come in the right way?"

"…I thought you told them to go through the back," she answered, brow furrowing. "Why did they come in through the right gate? I thought it was sealed…"

Itachi and Miho realized it at the same time.

"We're being surrounded," Miho said swiftly. "They were the spies—no, Akira was—I can't sense Hatori anymore—Akira must've knocked him out. Five ninja, I think…coming—"

Itachi grabbed Miho by the waist and pulled her down onto the ground behind a metal block of a trash dispenser. A kunai whizzed through the air silently right after they fell, and the two exits of the alleyway were sealed off by two shinobi each.

"We fight to get out," said Itachi calmly. He seemed completely dispassionate to their situation. "We still aim for the record books—"

"Why?! It's Akira, isn't it?!"

"Too quick to make assumptions," said Itachi in that same serene manner. "It could've been Hatori—I'm personally inclined to think that Hatori knocked himself out to let us think it was Akira, and we would leave the village without any further ado."

"So we go to the record room?" said Miho dubiously as Itachi pulled her a bit to the right to avoid a kunai from above.

"Indeed. Follow my lead, if you would, Chiaki-san."

He stopped speaking for a brief second and Miho detected another slight dip in his chakra. He must've activated his Sharingan; she could just imagine it, Itachi opening eyes, revealing brilliant scarlet irises. Three perfect points, symmetrically arranged around his pupils, almost spinning as Itachi looked around them, calculating, concentrating, contemplating.

"It seems that the two on our left are better game," he said, pulling her up. "I'll take the one on the right, you the one on the left. Watch out for your back—there's two behind and one above."

"I know."

Miho raced alongside Itachi, letting chakra flow to the tips of her fingers as her silver eyes focused on what was in front of her. She moved quickly forward with a burst of energy to her legs, outstripping Itachi for a brief moment, and disappearing behind her target instantaneously. She brought her hand slicing down across the back of his neck, feeling her fingertips dampen from the blood.

Before her target hit the ground, however, his partner collapsed first.

Itachi ran up to her, looking as if he'd exerted no energy at all in his efforts.

"How'd you do that?" she said breathlessly as they continued running.

"Genjutsu," was the simple reply.

"…Did you kill him?"

"Of course not. Did you?"

"I don't think so."

"What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"I didn't know if my hand cut through his nerve or his spine—"

Miho's sentence was cut short as she felt a shuriken fly by her ear, grazing her cheek; she turned halfway around, slowing down her pace, only for Itachi to urge her forward.

"Don't look back," he said from behind. "I'll take care of anyone pursuing us—focus in front of you."

What was incredible, astonishing, even, about the entire situation was that Miho felt no fear. No panic. She was calm. This was almost…easy when it shouldn't have been. They were at a disadvantage, and yet Miho didn't feel frightened. Perhaps it was because Itachi was just right there, calmly watching, serenely listening, confident and assertive—he was experienced, he did not falter. And the thought that she was actually relying on him did not pass through her mind.

"Split," he said behind her. "We have better chances that way. You'll be fine on your own, won't you?"

She felt an unnecessary flighty panic settling like butterflies in her stomach.

"Yeah," she said.

"Meet you at the record room."

They leapt up in opposite directions, Miho jumping up onto the rooftop of a house to her right. She skidded down its slopes, letting the shingles clang to the ground and shatter as she jumped from one roof to the next, aware that only one person was following her. They must've sensed that Itachi was the bigger threat.

Miho slowed down, letting her assailant catch up to her; he was within a meter of her back when she flipped over in the air, shooting out two shuriken linked by a steel wire. She landed easily and pulled forward, only to realize that she was pulling air; her enemy had dodged.

Miho instinctively ducked down as a blast of water came her way; her enemy was obviously a Suiton user. She clapped her hands together again. She could play with elements.

_Kaze no Senbon_.

The air accumulated around her fingers, condensing into sharp needles. She send them flying, piercing toward her black-clad target, then, once again letting her easily-flowing chakra concentrate in her legs, she sped forward in a burst of speed, catching her enemy as he dodged her wind needles, slicing him like she did the other, through the back of the neck.

He crumpled to the ground and Miho did not waste time pondering whether or not she had killed him. She automatically assumed that she had not; it would be easier on her conscience.

The record room, judging from Itachi's instructions before they had entered the village, would not be far. Miho aimed for a rather stately house on the right edge of the square, arriving at the front in a matter of seconds. She ducked behind a pillar, blending in with the darkness, as she sought out Itachi.

He was behind the building, still fighting. Surrounded by three others. Miho bit her lower lip. Was she supposed to go help?

Before she could make up her mind, however, Akira's presence joined hers. She bent down reflexively, avoiding his hand that came knocking through the air where her head had been. Miho whipped around, skidding backward, eyes landing on her former partner's profile.

"So it was you," said Miho, eyes narrowed.

"Yes," said Akira's soft voice, and he flung a set of shuriken her way, forcing her to dodge upward.

He met her midair, his hand crackling with electricity as it pierced her through the shoulder. Miho gritted her teeth, whipping her leg up and catching his outstretched arm and forcing him back. Miho pulled back, wincing as pain numbed her shoulder and as the blood began to trickle down her arm. She gripped it with her other hand tightly, breathing harshly as she landed and studied Akira's figure. He landed right in front of her, his ANBU mask glistening.

"You're just a girl," said Akira's sneering voice. "A child. The ways of the shinobi aren't so easy and dandy, girl. Without Uchiha helping you, you're useless."

Without Uchiha? She didn't _need_ Itachi. Did it seem like she did?

Ignoring the retort that she badly wanted to voice, Miho moved immediately forward, removing her hand from her wound and sharpening it with chakra. Her reserves were already near to empty, yet she could sense that Itachi was close by; he would be able to take over once she got rid of Akira, and hopefully they could find Hatori, get the records, and head back.

Akira had evidently been expecting her time of recovery to last longer, for his reflexes were jerky and surprised. Miho felt her hand connect with his chest satisfyingly, her finger tips dampening with the incarnadine liquid. She slashed down, drawing the wound out over his entire torso, eliciting a grunt of pain from Akira.

"Damn," he cursed, retreating backward a few steps.

Miho did not give him time to regain his ground; she swung her leg upward and brought it crashing down onto his head. Akira crumpled onto the ground with a rewarding crunch, leaving Miho the last one standing.

She let out a breath, her free hand once again returning to her wounded shoulder as the blood flowed freely down. It hurt. Stinging pain. She gave a wry smile. So much of her blood, wasted. Her precious blood…if she could activate her kekkei genkai.

Miho turned around and began to walk toward the entrance of the record room.

A shuffle behind her.

She whipped around, her grey eyes blazing, seeing Akira's profile rise up instantaneously in front of her, his fist alive with chattering voltage as he snapped his arm at her. Miho took a step backward, her responses numbed and slow; she could just see the blue glow surrounding his hand as it raced to her neck—

Someone intervened, stepping in front of Miho and grabbing Akira's wrist, snapping it back. An unearthly crack resounded in the air, joined milliseconds later as Akira howled in pain, falling to his knees as he gripped his wrist tightly, as if trying to remedy it. Miho looked at her savior.

It was Itachi. Of course.

He sent a kunai quickly through Akira's throat, catching him mid-scream. There was an awful gurgling sound, the sound of breathing in blood, and Akira fell to the ground. For good. Dead.

"Naïve," was all Itachi said as he helped her up. "Let's get in the room already—this mission is taking much longer than necessary…you're wounded?" His inflection of tone obviously deemed surprise.

"Let my guard down…" said Miho, flushing in embarrassment as she noticed that Itachi, who had taken on three ninjas alone, was completely unharmed.

She heard him sigh in exasperation as his fingers dexterously moved to her wound, prodding it gently. She winced again, thankful that he couldn't see how uncomfortable she was with the pain. He seemed to note her instant recoil though, and sighed again.

"Do you have bandages?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she muttered, brushing him off. "I won't die—it's just a flesh wound. Let's go."

* * *

The search itself only took a few seconds. Miho did not look into the books, allowing Itachi find it himself as she attempted to treat her wound. Itachi sighed again. He hadn't expected her to let her guard down this easily…Akira really hadn't been _that_ strong. But he had to excuse her for it, seeing as it was her first mission. All the same, the idea of being set back on what should've been an easy mission irritated him…

Strange…she seemed to be feeling much more lightheaded than she ought to have; the wound wasn't _that_ deep…and she'd managed to make it stop bleeding…was she really this weak? Itachi pursed his lips, returning his attention to the book, his Sharingan deactivated as he read.

"There seems to be a team," said Itachi as he snapped the book shut and returned it to the shelf. "It was 'Team Akira,' which means that we can't rule out Hatori…"

"Mm-hm," said Miho. She didn't seem to be paying attention.

"We should go," said Itachi. "I'd go and find Hatori, but seeing as you're injured…"

He let his sentence trail off—he hadn't meant to rub salt on the wound, and he was half-expecting her to retaliate acerbically. Miho didn't, however, and simply straightened up, only to fall forward. Itachi moved to her instantly, catching her by the shoulders and holding her up.

"…Are you all right?" said Itachi, genuine alarm in his voice.

Miho could not muster up a reply; she seemed only able to concentrate on breathing, on letting that oxygen flow into her body. Startled with her weakness, Itachi activated his Sharingan, aiming to see what exactly was wrong with her. The red color in her body was almost gone, its last vestiges accumulating in her wounded shoulder.

"…Your chakra is completely depleted," he said, startled. "Your wound—it's where your chakra is going…why…"

His brilliant Uchiha mind had the answer immediately after his question.

Blood, chakra. Precious blood. Ishachi.

"...Chiaki-san…you've activated your kekkei genkai."

* * *

**Free Talk**:

Hey! Thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapter--I really appreciate the feedback.

Sorry for the slower update. And sorry, I hate writing fight scenes...which is sad, because this fic will probably have a lot of fight scenes because it's a canon one. Ugh...hopefully it was okay though.

It was a bit fast-paced, and I must apologize also for that. I had to have a lot of things happen in one chapter...sorry!

I hope you liked the chapter though. I'm not too sure on what to think of it. =\ So please review again! How am I doing with Itachi?

Oh...and a slight teaser for you for the next chapter,

_"Payback for what, you say? For saving your life, of course. I must say that your first kiss is quite a small price to pay for your life." --_Itachi

:D Review! And I'll try to update faster!

xoxo,

m.n

P.S. As usual, more discussion on my LJ later. :)


	4. Your Thoughts, Dear Sir

**Chapter 4: Your Thoughts, Dear Sir**

Itachi didn't think Miho heard his decisive observation that she had awakened her kekkei genkai, for the girl fell unconscious right after he finished his sentence. He caught her effortlessly, his dark eyes narrowing as he glanced between her still figure and the record book in his hand. He sighed, shifting her weight so that she was leaning against him as he pocketed the book; it seemed that he really wouldn't have time to track down Hatori. Miho was in critical condition; with the constant loss of blood and chakra, she would be reduced to nothing rather soon.

Unfortunately, Hatori's chakra appeared right outside the doors. Itachi pursed his lips, lifting Miho up so that her body was settled against his, and he exited the room.

"Hatori-san," he greeted, looking at the older shinobi. "You're late."

"Sorry," said Hatori. "I got held up—did you get the information?"

"Not yet…" lied Itachi. "…You got here quicker than I thought."

"The ninjas who chased me down were small fry," Hatori explained. "It was not hard to knock them out and come here. I apologize for not helping you out, but you looked fine on your own. The girl, on the other hand…"

"It was Akira," said Itachi, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Hatori.

"Ah, I thought so…he knocked himself out when we entered, and the moment he fell, I was surrounded…"

"I see," said Itachi slowly. "Good to see that you're fine…"

Itachi clearly saw Hatori move, but he'd underestimated his speed. The traitor brushed instantly by Itachi, aiming for his back, but Itachi whirled around and slammed his leg out, catching Hatori in the waist. The older shinobi gave a grunt as he skidded to a stop, clutching his stomach.

"You don't really think I'd believe you, right?" said Itachi. "I'm afraid that from the start of this mission, the only person on this platoon that I trusted was Chiaki-san; why else do you think I let Akira and you lead? It wasn't safe to let you watch my back…"

"As expected of the Uchiha prodigy," said Hatori through gritted teeth. "Don't think you'll get out of here alive though; you're hampered by the wounded girl and the mask is covering your face, preventing your use of genjutsu. I'm more than enough for you!"

Itachi gave another sigh, lazily dodging a kunai thrown at him. He sensed Hatori above him and moved slightly to the left, letting the assailant come crashing down through the air, hitting nothing. Again, Itachi kicked out, this time hitting Hatori square in the face effortlessly.

"Even at a disadvantage," said Itachi, somewhat bored, "I still win."

"Cocky bastard," snapped Hatori, placing his hands together. "I'll be the last one standing."

Itachi activated his Sharingan, catching sight of the jutsu that Hatori was using.

_Katon! Goukakyuu no Jutsu!_

"Seriously?" said Itachi wearily, dodging the pillar of fire easily. "As if you could use my own jutsu against me…the Uchiha learn that one at age five…"

"Shut up!" snarled Hatori.

Miho stirred in Itachi's arms, forcing him to lose a bit of concentration and check up on her. Perspiration lined her face and she was beginning to shake; she needed to see a doctor, and quickly.

"Don't underestimate me!" said Hatori furiously, throwing an entire stash of kunai Itachi's way.

The Uchiha prodigy once again jumped up, but this time, it was a mistake. Hatori found him mid-air and plunged a kunai into Itachi's shoulder; Itachi gritted his teeth, pain jolting up his right side. He snapped his leg out and kicked Hatori hard in the chest, then landed perfectly on the ground. Not waiting for Hatori to regain his breath, Itachi indecorously dropped Miho to the ground for a moment before racing forward, his kunai outstretched. In a split second exchange, Itachi sank his kunai straight into Hatori's heart, feeling the thick, viscous blood pour over his hands.

Hatori breathed in raggedly, causing Itachi to force the kunai deeper. Hatori's eyes rolled up to the back of his head and he collapsed, breathing his last, and with a shudder, grew still. Itachi let his kunai fall with a clack, looking down on the corpse with disgust, before turning around to pick up the unconscious girl. Time to play the hero…

* * *

Itachi landed swiftly on the ground in the middle of the forest, a few miles away from the village. He didn't think any trackers were following them, and after a good five minutes of straight running, he deemed it safe to finally stop and treat Miho's wound.

The location he'd chosen was convenient and secluded, right by a small creek and tiny clearing; it would be enough to rest for the night. He washed his hands in the river and turned his attention to Miho, who looked even paler than before. Itachi brought his hands up to the collar of her shirt, unbuttoning it dexterously and drawing it down, revealing her shoulders.

He pursed his lips, silently praying that she would not wake up; it would be much too awkward to explain the situation, and he knew that being caught in this kind of position would only make her hate him more…a result he was keen to avoid.

Itachi withdrew a roll of bandages from Miho's bag, cutting a strip of it off with a kunai and dampening it with the cold water. He wringed it out, then began to clean Miho's wound. It was tedious work; it was almost like she was a hemophiliac, as the blood continued to trickle out, never stopping. Itachi activated his Sharingan again, the crimson orbs wandering over Miho's body, trying to find a trace of red. It was all concentrated in her shoulder…and there was not much left.

Itachi cursed, speeding up his pace as he began to bandage the wound, wrapping the coarse cloths over her shoulder tightly and tying it neatly, finishing it with a bow. The red was still concentrated in her shoulder but…it seemed to have stopped flowing out of her body.

Itachi let out a breath, more relieved than he thought he'd be. She would be fine. All the same…he had to report back to Konoha as quickly as he could.

He pressed his hands together in the Summoning signs, muttering the jutsu under his breath. The familiar popping sound resonated in the air, and the crow appeared seconds later.

"Calling me twice in one night?" the crow said musically. "You must be tired, Itachi-kun."

"That I am," he chuckled. "I need you to get to Konoha and report back to the Hokage; tell him where we are and that I'm planning on setting out again tomorrow, but it might be nice if he sent a medic squad out in our direction to treat the wounded kunoichi."

"It's unlike you to care so much for a teammate," remarked the crow, ascending into the air. "She's a snappish one, according to the others."

"She just doesn't like her destined Summon," said Itachi. "She's a girl; she must've wanted something…cuter."

"Cuter doesn't cut it," scoffed the crow. "At least we're intelligent and useful."

"Well, hopefully Chiaki-san will realize that sooner than later. Off you go now."

The crow nodded and disappeared into the air, melting in with the night air. Itachi began to address his own wound, taking off his exterior shirt and cleaning the wound. It was rather deep and hampered his right arm's movement…what a hassle…if only there was some medicine that could instantly heal flesh wounds…

…Instantly heal.

Itachi's eyes flickered to Miho. Wasn't her Ishachi now activated? And couldn't drinking the blood of an Ishachi host heal wounds? Itachi pursed his lips again, thinking. It wouldn't hurt, would it? After all, she was still bleeding like a hemophiliac; all he was doing was drinking the blood that she was losing.

He gave a wry grin. What a vampire-like trait of his. Was he that interested in tasting someone's blood?

But it wasn't just anyone's blood…it was Saruji blood…precious blood. And it could be beneficial.

Itachi lifted Miho up so that she was lying against his bare chest; he then began to unravel her bandages slightly, revealing the now slowly trickling wound. He paused for a moment, trying to remember if there was anything in specific that he had to do to receive the benefits of such blood; Miho hadn't told him anything about it, though, and he could not remember reading anything so in detail about the Saruji clan.

Well, it wasn't a big deal. A little blood couldn't hurt.

He brought his lips to her bleeding shoulder, tasting the salty liquid as it settled over his tongue. What an awful taste. But he was only doing it to satiate his curiosity.

Ah, well…

Curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?

* * *

Itachi couldn't remember anything after he drank Miho's blood. He stirred in his sleep quietly, suddenly aware of the intense pain throughout his body…inside his body. His shoulder, the one that had sustained a wound from Hatori, hardly hurt. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. What hurt was…everything else inside of him.

He opened his eyes blearily, his sight hazy and unfocused. He groaned, sitting up, only to have someone catch his shoulder and press him back down on the bed.

Oh. He was on a bed.

His sight began to clear up, and he looked around him. It was a familiar setting; he was in the Konoha hospital…with its pure white walls and distinguished smell of sanitizer…

"Itachi," said Fugaku. "Itachi, are you all right?"

"What happened?" said Itachi groggily, holding his head between his hands. "I—"

He was cut off by a coughing fit, shaking through his entire body; he gripped his chest with one hand as he tried to stabilize his breathing. The simple tasks of inhaling and exhaling exhausted him…

"Where's Chiaki-san?" he asked. "Is she all right?"

Fugaku pursed his lips disapprovingly but answered the question regardless.

"Her chakra levels were dangerously low, but she will be fine. She's still unconscious."

"How long has it been?" asked Itachi tiredly, leaning back on the pillows. "What happened? I don't remember…"

"It's been a week since the medic squad recovered you. Almost all your internal organs were ruptured; you're lucky to be alive, Itachi, and lucky that the squad had been close by. Frankly, I don't know what happened," said Fugaku. "It seemed like you got out of the village fine, according to your crow. It's beyond me how you became so badly wounded."

Fugaku's voice reflected his disappointment, a tone that Itachi was unaccustomed to hearing from his father. Itachi looked up at him.

"I finished the mission perfectly fine," said Itachi a tad coolly. "Exactly how I got hurt…I'm not sure either. Is Hiroki-sensei nearby?"

As if on cue, Hiroki entered the room, eyes lighting up as he saw Itachi.

"Itachi-kun!" he said in relief. "It's good to see you awake."

"Hiroki-sensei," greeted Itachi with a brief nod. "How is Chiaki-san?"

"She's still sleeping, but the nurses say she'll be fine," said Hiroki. "Tell me, how did this happen?"

"…I have a slight hunch," confessed Itachi. "But first…sensei, what happens when someone drinks the undiluted blood of an Ishachi host?"

Hiroki's face paled considerably as he simply stared at Itachi.

"I'm guessing that it wasn't a smart idea to do so," sighed Itachi, running a hand through his bangs. "Damn…"

"…What are you saying?" demanded Hiroki, and there was fright in his voice. "Are you saying that…that Miho has activated her kekkei genkai?"

"I believe so," said Itachi. "She was wounded, and all of a sudden, all her chakra flowed out with her blood; she fainted, and I managed to finish the mission myself. I was wounded when we left the village, so I…er, wanted to see what would happen if I drank her blood…simply curious…"

Itachi abruptly realized that he probably wasn't sounding all that brilliant at the moment, contrary to his typical intelligence. He decided to stop talking and let Hiroki take over the conversation.

"…It's true," said Hiroki slowly, "that your wounds match what happens when a hardly injured person drinks too much undiluted Saruji blood. Saruji blood is so concentrated with chakra that only people who are deathly ill or injured can consume it without feeling the repercussions. If the recipient of the blood is hardly injured, the blood will be too much for the body to accommodate, and it will wreak havoc inside the body. That is most likely what happened to you."

Hiroki heaved a sigh and sank into a nearby chair, thinking deeply.

"…Forgive me," said Itachi quietly. "I'd forgotten that the news of her activation would be ill-received."

"The girl is a selfish one, Itachi-kun. She will not take the news well either." Hiroki lapsed into silence, once again engulfed in deep thought. When he spoke again, it was with a tone of somberness. "Itachi-kun, Fugaku-san, I must ask that you refrain from telling Miho that she has activated her kekkei genkai. I must find a way to reverse it."

"That's impossible," said Fugaku severely. "She must learn to accept it, Hiroki-san."

"No," said Hiroki fiercely. "I will not have her die like her mother."

"…She will feel the change within herself," said Itachi heavily. "It will be hard for her not to notice."

"…All the same," Hiroki said, "I will do what I can. I just ask you to refrain from giving her the news."

"…Very well," said Itachi, lying back down, perspiration dampening his forehead. "I'll keep quiet. Tell me when she wakes up, will you? It'll be easier on my conscience…"

His sentence drifted off as he was seized with a desperate slumber. Itachi slumped back down onto the mattress, his breathing difficult, his condition uncomfortable.

"Thank you for taking care of my daughter," said Hiroki solemnly. "I'll let you know when she awakes."

Itachi nodded wearily, his onyx eyes closing. Within a few seconds, sleep claimed him, and, body rendered exhausted with pain, he managed to drift off again, fitfully. Pain mixed with dreams, with guilt in between.

* * *

Something was pulsing through her body.

Some power.

Some drainage.

Something harmful…yet helpful. Something paradoxical.

Chakra. Blood. Red and red. Intertwined.

Miho opened her grey eyes, staring straight up above her at a white speckled ceiling. Where was she? What had happened? Memories began to flood back into her head; all she could remember was Itachi saving her from Akira, but then what else? She had collapsed…shamefully enough.

Miho sat up slowly, blinking the dryness out of her eyes as she looked around. It was nighttime, judging from the darkness and the sliver of moonlight drifting into the room. Her father was asleep beside her, his head lain on his arms against the bed, his breathing smooth and deep. Obviously asleep.

And she felt awake. Tired, but awake.

She felt like she'd been in bed for ages, and a sudden desire to stand up and stretch filled her aching limbs. Miho rolled off the mattress, careful not to disturb her father, and tiptoed out of her room. She was most likely back at Konoha…which meant that the mission had probably been completed, with no thanks to her.

Miho paused in the hallway, sensing. Was it just her, or was Itachi's chakra right next to her room?

He couldn't be injured. _The_ Uchiha Itachi, injured enough to be in a hospital? Exactly what had happened after she'd fainted?

Miho resolutely knocked on the door to Itachi's room; she received no answer, but slid the door open anyway, entering the room. He was sleeping on the clean, white bed in the corner of the room. Miho could see that a kunai was on the nightstand right next to the bed, only a foot away from Itachi's hand. Really, he was so prepared.

But something was wrong. His rhythmic breathing much unlike her father's: shallow, uncomfortable, ragged. Was he badly injured?

She approached him, dragging up a chair quietly across the slick tiles and sat down beside him. She was confused. What was going on? Itachi seemed to be in terrible shape; sweat lined his attractive face, dampening his bangs. Miho reached for a metal pan filled with water beside her, wringing out a towel and dabbing it over Itachi's face.

Wait.

What was she doing?

What was she thinking? This was unnecessary.

Why would she be treating Itachi?

But her body moved on its own. Her cool hand brushed against his cheek, lightly, carefully, outlining his cheekbone. What a fine face. Beautiful countenance. Lovely.

And then he awoke.

Perhaps she had touched his skin too roughly, too abruptly, for his eyes just snapped open instantly, already circling with crimson Sharingan. He gripped onto her wrist tightly and sat up quickly, his other hand outstretched and grabbing onto her neck.

"It's me," said Miho hastily, bringing her hand up and trying to pry his grip away from her neck. "It's me, calm down—"

"…Chiaki-san," he said in relief, letting go and leaning back. His eyes turned to their nicer shade of black. "Forgive me—I—"

"It's fine," she said, massaging her neck.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned. "I hope you're all right—"

"I seem to be much better off than you," she said wryly. "Are you all right? What happened? I can't believe I fainted—I don't even know why I did. It was just a flesh wound, nothing to make me lose consciousness."

Itachi's lips thinned into a line, as if he were debating something, but then he spoke.

"The kunai was lined with poison," he said. "There wasn't much we could do about it at the moment, and your constant movement made the poison transfer faster through your body. I managed to finish the mission alone."

"Then why are you so injured?" she asked, rinsing the towel through again because she had to do something with her hands. "I can't imagine that any amount of forces could hospitalize you…"

"I'm not invincible, Chiaki-san. I still had to take care of you, and thus was at quite the disadvantage. I managed to kill Hatori, but we left the village right after that."

"Oh," said Miho, a bit embarrassed. "Sorry…"

"It's not your fault. Everyone lets their guard down a bit on the first mission."

That wasn't a good enough excuse, though, and Miho felt a twinge of guilt as she watched Itachi sit up straighter, groaning with the movement. He was obviously in quite a bit of pain.

"Here," said Miho with uncharacteristic gentleness, easing him back on a pillow so he could sit more comfortably.

"Thanks," he said appreciatively, breathing heavily as he held onto his waist, gritting his teeth. "If you could hand me the towel…"

"I'll do it," she said, wringing it out again and dabbing his perspiring face. "How long have we been back?"

"I woke up earlier this morning," he said, "and my father said we'd been back a week."

"…It took me a week to wake up from simple poison?" she said, stunned.

"…It was…a special kind of poison," said Itachi vaguely, looking away from her.

Something about the way he said it made Miho rather suspicious, but she did not press the subject, taking into account Itachi's condition.

He gave a soft chuckle, and much to Miho's dismay, she felt her heartbeat change erratically upon hearing it.

"You're being…very kind," he remarked, lifting up his head so Miho could trail the towel down his neck. "Guilty, perhaps? If you're this kind every time you screw up a mission, well, I'd rather hope that you could always mess up."

"You can wash yourself now," she said dryly, handing him the towel. "I was feeling rather sorry for you, but it seems like my pity was misplaced."

"I don't need your pity, Chiaki-san," said Itachi, his eyes glinting in amusement. "Though I do rather like your uncharacteristic kindness at the moment."

He leaned his face somewhat close to hers, and Miho unconsciously went pink.

"What are you doing?" she said warily, her voice surprisingly steady.

"After seeing me play the part of the gallant hero, Chiaki-san…do you like me more, perhaps?" There was playful hopefulness in his tone, and it irritated her.

"Not in the slightest," she said evenly, leaning back. "Uchiha, I'm grateful to you for saving me, but I didn't ask for it—"

"Oh, forgive me then," he said with slight mockery. "I wasn't aware that you didn't want to live. Perhaps I really should've let Akira kill you then."

"That wasn't my point," she said coolly.

Itachi did not reply, instead wincing visibly as he began to cough, his hand once again placed over his heart as if trying to stabilize his own heartbeat through some unknown means. Miho, worried, bent forward, only to see Itachi smirk slightly before poking her on the head lightly.

"You are incredibly two-faced," he said, chuckling again as Miho's cheeks went red. "Ah…guilt, and what it does to you…quite amusing, really."

"Go die," said Miho immaturely, throwing the white cloth in his face before standing up. "Go die and rot—why the hell did I even bother coming…"

"It was a joke, Chiaki-san," he said, still smirking as he held on to her wrist, preventing her from leaving. "Stay for a while—I'm bored."

"Amuse yourself," she said frigidly.

"Here I am, Chiaki-san, in a hospital bed with ruptured internal organs because I was too busy protecting you from an onslaught of enemies, and you can't do the slightest as to even keep me company? There are many things I could do to make you pay me back, you know."

"Saving me was your choice; my gratitude is the most you'll get," she said sullenly, though she was already sitting back down on the metal chair.

"And she says one thing, and does another," Itachi said, smiling slightly. "I was thinking about our conversation before we infiltrated the village—I stand by what I said previously. You _are_ attracted to me."

"Why do we have to talk about this?" said Miho incredulously. "I'm only staying here because you just happened to save my life—don't assume you're special all of a sudden, Uchiha."

"I beg to differ, I find that I'm rather…special, as you say. Perhaps special's not the right word. Unique. Different."

"Prodigious is the word you're looking for," she said dryly. "Again, you're taking me too literally."

"So is it this…prodigious part of me that you're attracted to?" he offered.

"Uchiha, for the _last_ time: I'm _not_ attracted to you."

"Really? So let's take the example of someone you're obviously attracted to: Kakashi-san."

"That's enough," said Miho sharply, pushing her chair back and causing a scraping sound to echo in the room. "My patience only goes so far; this is a topic that I evidently want to avoid with you at all costs, Uchiha."

Itachi caught onto her wrist again, but instead of waiting for her to retaliate, he pulled her down swiftly, causing her to fall onto the bed. Before she even had a chance to voice her indignation, he leaned forward, his lips touching hers slightly.

Miho jerked back, blood racing through her head as her cheeks flushed instantaneously to a nameless shade of red; her hand darted out, aiming to connect with the side of the grinning Uchiha's face. It was pathetic; even in his weakened state, he caught her wrist easily.

"_What the hell was that for?!_" she said furiously, her face crimson. "Y-you…"

She was too flustered, angry, and winded to finish her sentence; all she was aware of was the increasing heat in her cheeks and the awful sense of embarrassment that was beginning to cloud her thoughts. She brought a hand up to her face and looked determinedly away from Itachi, who seemed to be shaking with silent laughter.

"Payback," he said simply, still laughing slightly.

"For _what_?!"

"For what, you say?" he chortled. "For saving your life, of course. I must say that your first kiss is quite a small price to pay for your life."

"Why are you so…" Miho stood up and yanked the pillow from under Itachi's head, causing him to wince slightly. She slammed it down on his face as hard as she could, relishing the contact as she furiously gazed at his profile. "You're so infuriating! Is this a _game_ to you? Making me angry?! Good for you, because you're doing a great job of winning it; you _asshole_—"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry," sighed Itachi, catching the pillow finally. "You overreact so easily, Chiaki-san. It was just a kiss."

"I would've never taken you for the flirtatious type," she hissed, grabbing the wash pan and dumping its contents over his head. Itachi barely managed to block the water with the pillow; the mere fact that he had the _gall _to even bother to protect himself instead of taking his punishment infuriated Miho all the more. She slammed the pan over Itachi's head, hearing the metallic clang reverberate into the air with utterly vindictive satisfaction.

"That hurt," said Itachi dryly, no longer looking so amused as he had been seconds before.

"Freaking—" she said angrily, still hitting him with the metal pan, "asshole—"

Miho must've been making quite the racket, for in no time, the room was filled with nurses and doctors, all trying to restrain her from beating Itachi up any further.

"Ma'am, what in the world are you doing?" a male doctor demanded, holding her back by the wrists. "Why are you attacking a patient?"

"He's not even injured," retorted Miho, shrugging them off easily. "Bastard…"

"Miho, what in the world is going on?" said Hiroki's stern voice behind her. "Why are you attacking Itachi-kun?! He saved your life!"

"Oh-ho, the moment he gets the fuck out of the hospital, he's going to wish with every ounce of his body that he didn't—"

"Miho!" said Hiroki angrily. "Apologize."

"Hell no."

Miho threw her wonderfully sturdy wash pan at Itachi, who blocked it with his drenched pillow.

"She's just upset," said Itachi calmly. "It might be post-traumatic symptoms; don't give her a hard time—"

"Shut the hell up," Miho snapped. "I don't need your protection, Uchiha."

"Miho!" said Hiroki, his face contorting with livid rage.

Miho scoffed, unsurprised that her father was so adamantly siding with Itachi—the _bastard_, the kiss-stealing flirtatious playboy who enjoyed screwing with her head just because he was _bored_—oh, if amusement was all Itachi wanted, then by all means, Miho would play the damn game…

She stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her and returning to her own. She could hear her father apologize for the disruption before rejoining her in their room.

"What in the world are you thinking?!" said Hiroki the moment he shut the door. "Itachi-kun saved _your_ life even though he didn't have to—if he hadn't saved your life, the mission would've been finished much quicker—"

"Good to know that the mission was more important than my life," she snapped.

"He saved your life!" Hiroki roared. "The greatest bond in this world between individuals is formed when someone saves your life, Miho—you will forever be indebted to him, and to think that you even had the _nerve_ to show him disrespect—"

"If life worked that way, _Otou-san_, then all of Konoha would've been kneeling at Okaa-san's feet—but the world _doesn't_ work that way, does it?! Don't expect me to go showing gratitude to Uchiha because _you'd_ rather have him for a son!"

Hiroki's palm connected with the side of Miho's face so quickly that she was sent spiraling onto the floor from the force of the blow. She hit the cold ground hard, wincing at the connection, but more winded by what had caused her to fall.

Hiroki pointed a threatening finger at her.

"I'll will not be spoken to like that," he said coldly. "Tomorrow, you will apologize to Itachi for what you've done, and find a way to make it up to him. We hold a great debt to the Uchiha family, Miho, and it would be prudent if you did not offend their greatest heir."

Miho concentrated on a defect in the tiling right to her left. She could not bring herself to look at her father; never, _ever_ had she been hit across the face—by him, by anyone. And the fact that he would so willingly hit _her_ for a _stranger_, for someone not _blood-related_…it stunned her. She was hardly angry. She was numb with disbelief.

"Get back to bed," said Hiroki in that same cold tone. "We will go apologize to him first thing in the morning when you wake up."

* * *

"We are deeply grateful to Itachi-kun for saving Miho's life," said Hiroki respectfully to Itachi and Fugaku the next morning with a deep bow. "I'm also deeply sorry for Miho's behavior last night…"

His voice trailed off. This was Miho's cue to apologize.

But she wouldn't. She stared at Itachi in stony resolution, her dull silver eyes glinting with fierce coldness. Itachi was the one who looked apologetic, regretful—he seemed to know what had happened the night before.

"Miho," said Hiroki with threatening urgency.

"She doesn't need to apologize," said Itachi. "It was my fault—I…"

"No, Miho, apologize."

"It's all right, Hiroki-sensei," said Fugaku slowly. "Pride is an essential part of the shinobi way; it is understandable if she's unwilling to apologize, especially if part of it may be Itachi's fault. We can let it go."

"Very well," sighed Hiroki, glaring at Miho. "Thank you. Is there any way we can repay you?"

"If Chiaki-san can just continue taking care of Itachi while he's being hospitalized, that would be excellent," said Fugaku. "My wife is busy taking care of Sasuke, and I have a mission starting tomorrow."

"It's fine," said Itachi urgently. "I'll be fine by myself, Otou-san, it's not like—"

"It'd be an honor," said Hiroki. "Miho?"

She knew she was already stretching the line to its finest length. And she knew that she could not press Hiroki's patience any farther.

Her eyes still blazing with icy fury, she nodded stiffly. Relief spread over Hiroki's face, causing another ripple of anger to appear in her chakra levels. Strange, how her chakra was reacting so easily to her emotions now…it must've been obvious, because Itachi winced, having evidently sensed the change in her demeanor.

"Thanks," said Fugaku appreciatively. "You don't need to stay with him all day—it's just for meals and such—"

"You really don't need to if you're busy," said Itachi quickly. "I understand if you have other stuff to do—"

"Miho will probably not be sent on other missions," interrupted Hiroki. "She'll be more than happy to take care of you."

Itachi shot Miho a sincerely apologetic look, but Miho ignored it deliberately. In retrospect, the kiss was a petty thing to be angry over; what was the bigger deal was being hit by her own father. _That_ was something worthy being angry over.

"Again, thanks," said Hiroki. "We'll be leaving now; Itachi-kun, Miho will be joining you later."

"Take your time," he said.

Really. Like she would.

* * *

"Miho, the Uchiha clan plays one of the greatest roles in the history of this village," said Hiroki as they prepared lunch together. "They are underappreciated people. You should respect Itachi-kun more."

Miho silently skinned the potatoes.

"He is a good boy who has taken a fair interest to you," continued Hiroki. "If you two were somehow able to become a pair…it'd be good for you."

She began to cut the potatoes into small squares.

"The Uchiha clan saved the entire Saruji clan from the brink of obliteration ten years ago."

Miho froze, knife poised midair.

"Ha," said Hiroki, satisfied. "I thought that'd get your attention."

Miho resumed cutting the potatoes, keenly listening and silently hoping for a continuation to the story.

"Fugaku was testing you when he asked you all the questions about the Ishachi," explained Hiroki. "Of course he knew the properties of the clan he'd saved; he held the Saruji clan in highest regard. The clan wasn't strong offensively, however, and was constantly targeted by warring clans to exterminate them. Ten years ago, and this is before you remember—you were only a child, after all, and your mother had married outside the clan and thus was not too closely affiliated—a neighboring clan attacked the Saruji. The Uchiha managed to save them in the nick of time, and since then, the medical force and police force have been close. Or, at least, until the Saruji clan was wiped out only a few years later by the Kyuubi attack…"

Miho tossed the potatoes into the pot.

"You should be grateful to the Uchihas, Miho," said Hiroki gravely. "They are an extremely powerful force."

Miho stirred the boiling water and its floating ingredients. The delightful aroma of pork, miso, and potatoes filled the tiny kitchen.

"Take care of Itachi well," her father said.

Still thinking of that boy who wasn't even his son. Completely unregretful of slapping her. As if it had been _needed_.

Miho turned off the stove and covered the pot with its lid, trying to keep some of the heat. She started for the door, and without uttering one word, left.

* * *

"You really don't have to do this," said Itachi as she ladled some soup out of the pot. "The hospital staff is more than friendly, and you really don't need to give up so much of your time to treat me, Chiaki-san, I—"

"Uchiha, if you do not shut up, I will pour this down your throat mid-sentence," she said coolly.

Itachi gave a sigh, taking the china bowl she was holding out to him.

"Forgive me for what happened last night," he murmured, accepting a spoon with a nod of thanks. "It was meant as a joke, and it escalated into something unpleasant. I apologize."

Miho sat down on the stool, ladling herself a bowl of soup as well.

"Did you make this?" said Itachi, genuinely impressed. "It's good."

"It's soup," she said crassly. "How much better can it get?"

Itachi let out another breath, letting the spoon swirl to a stop in his soup as he stretched out his right hand, touching her gently on the arm.

"Chiaki-san—"

"Touch me, Uchiha, and I'll cut your fingers off," she said coldly.

He retracted his hands promptly.

"Sorry," he said.

Silence settled over them. Miho fixated her eyes determinedly on her soup, trying not to calm the mass of swirling thoughts in her mind. Just because she was a descendant of the Saruji clan didn't mean she had to be grateful to the Uchihas; just because her father groveled at the feet of the Uchihas didn't mean she had to. And just because Itachi was looking at her with genuine apology didn't mean that she had to forgive him.

But she could feel her heart change and shift just watching that sorry expression through the corner of her eyes.

"What is so great about you?" she asked, finally turning to face him. "I don't see it."

Itachi blinked, looking somewhat relieved at the stimulated conversation.

"Well, I have no idea," he said. "You're the one calling me perfect all the time."

"…True."

She lapsed into silence, thinking deeply.

"Why did you kiss me last night?" she said finally. "I don't understand. If it was a joke, it was ill-placed. If it was for fun…likewise, it was ill-placed."

"I'm not sure myself," said Itachi honestly.

"Are you a playboy?" she said severely.

"No," he answered. "It was just sort of…on the moment."

"On the moment," she repeated icily. "So is that how you lost your first kiss? An on the moment scenario where you kissed a random girl—"

"I suppose so," he intercepted, "because that's sort of what happened last night."

Miho froze.

"Last night was your first kiss too?!" she said disbelievingly. "Are you crazy?! You don't just _do_ that, Uchiha, not to strangers!"

"I don't think you're a stranger," he said, shrugging as he chewed on a potato chunk. "For some reason, I seem to trust you rather easily—or perhaps it's just your naivety. For example…" He lifted up a spoonful of soup. "I didn't even bother checking to see if you'd poisoned this or not, even though you probably had good reason to."

"I wouldn't kill you," said Miho acidly. "Then I'd have all of Konoha after me for killing the hero."

"That is a likely scenario."

Miho gave a wry smile and ladled out another bowl.

"Seconds?" she asked.

"Please."

There was silence again as she worked. Miho was keenly aware that Itachi's eyes were watching her. She could not help but become flustered.

"Uchiha," she said abruptly, setting her bowl down to look at him.

He blinked rapidly, looking taken back, as if he had been snapped out of a reverie.

"Yes?" he said warily.

"What do you think of me?" she questioned.

"…Think…of you?" he repeated, looking rather confused.

"Yes," she said exasperatedly. "Think of me."

"…Rephrase the question, please," he said politely.

Miho rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the slight tingeing of her cheeks.

"Fine. Uchiha. Do you like me?"

Miho didn't know what to expect of his answer. She didn't know what she wanted out of it either. But a little, tiny part of her heart accelerated. It palpitated quickly.

Strange.

She was feeling hopeful.

* * *

**Free Talk:**

Hey! So I definitely updated sooner than I'd thought--but the reception for the last chapter was so great I just had to update before the weekend ended. :) I hope you all liked the chapter; again, it was a bit fast-paced, but if the pace is too much for anyone, please let me know.

Oh, and just a note to my kind lovely reviewers, I like to reply your reviews, even if all you say is an "update soon" or something along those lines, but for those who don't sign in, I can't reply through , so if you say something that I think should be replied, I'll reply on my LJ. As of right now, this is specific to Lia Pardee, but if anyone else leaves a review that I think should have a rather lengthy response, I'll put it on my LJ. Oh, and to † ȷɛɴᴎɩ.ᴧɴɢɜʟ †'s question of how long this fic is going to be: all I can say is that it's going to be pretty lengthy...seeing as I have to go through the pre-massacre arc, then post-massacre arc, and then Shippuden. To tell the truth, I am so tempted just to skip to Shippuden because it'd be so much fun and easy to type, but one thing at a time. :) So if I had to make an estimate...I'd say like...50 chapters? 60 chapters? =.=;; I really have no idea.

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing! It'd be lovely if you left another review on your way out--it encourages me to update sooner, really. Especially since I'm not at a Writer's Block for this one...

Discussion up on my LJ later if you're interested! Oh, and I nearly forgot. Here's another teaser:

_"Can I stay over tonight?" --Miho_

Please review. :)

xoxo,  
m.n


	5. Ghosting Touches

**Chapter 5: Ghosting Touches**

"Like you?" said Itachi, pleasantly bewildered. "I…er…well, yes, I do."

It was painfully obvious to Miho that Itachi was responding out of sheer politeness. She frowned.

"I meant like _like_. Not…whatever you're thinking," she said.

"Er…like…like? Like…er…more than a friend?"

Miho just stared at him for a few precious seconds, trying to bite back an undesirable response that was threatening to slip out of mouth.

"Are you really…intelligent?" said Miho dryly. "Or are you just acting stupid? Yes, I meant more than a friend."

"Why would you think that?" said Itachi curiously, aimlessly stirring his soup.

"You're paying too much attention to me," she said. "You…I always imagined you to be reserved about…people. This amount of attention…" She leaned back in her seat, setting her empty bowl aside. "I didn't expect it from you."

Itachi blinked, still looking politely confused.

"I think you're interesting," he said honestly.

"Because I hate you?" she said lightly. "You think I'm interesting, or just immature?"

"…Both…"

Miho sighed and stood up, taking her dish and heading over to the sink to wash it.

"Sorry," said Itachi. "I didn't mean to insult you."

"I'm not insulted," she said. "I myself think I'm immature…"

"Well, that's a very mature thought."

She glared at his evident amusement; the corners of his lips were twitching upward, as if he were pleased with himself, having said something apparently very clever.

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Uchiha."

"Sorry."

"…So you don't like me…in the romantic sense," she said slowly, breaching the subject yet again.

Itachi didn't answer, looking unsure of how to reply. It seemed that he was worried that his response would upset her. Miho heaved another sigh.

"For heaven's sake, Uchiha, would you stop caring so much if I hate you or not? Just speak your mind for once, would you? It's pathetic…"

"I just haven't ever been cornered with this kind of question," said Itachi defensively. "I'm not too sure what the right answer is."

"There is no wrong or right answer," said Miho, rinsing the bowl through. "Forget it—if it upsets you that much, just don't answer."

"…I feel like you're disliking me more because I can't answer the question," said Itachi, leaning back on his pillows with a groan. "I'm just not sure what to say to it—what does it mean to like someone more than a friend? I don't…really know if we're even 'friends' at this point."

Miho paused, feeling a little hurt. But why was she? She was always the one who said that they weren't friends. They were hardly acquaintances.

"Never mind then," she said, resuming her rinsing. "Forget I asked."

"…Could it be that you see me as…more than a friend?" said Itachi. Miho could discern a bit of hope in his voice.

"Do you want me to say yes because you actually want me to like you in a romantic sense?" she asked. "Or is it because you'll just feel better knowing I don't hate you?"

"You know, Chiaki-san," he said, "being around you sometimes makes me feel less intelligent than I normally feel."

"Excellent job avoiding the question," she said under her breath, setting her bowl aside. "Forget it, let's just drop the subject."

"But—"

"Just shut up and eat your lunch, Uchiha. You're starting to annoy me."

"…Sorry?"

"No, I take that back," she muttered, sitting back down on her stool and leaning against the wall. "You infuriate me."

* * *

Itachi had been told his entire life that he was a genius. Prodigy. The best shinobi that the Uchiha clan—no, that Konoha had seen in years. He was used to _understanding_ things easily, for every concept, theory, or jutsu to just click in his head.

Which was why being around Chiaki Miho was a bit disconcerting, because everything she talked about—with such conviction at that—confused him. More than a friend meant as a girlfriend, right? So why didn't she just say that? And to actually be angry with _him_ for not getting it…there were many better ways to ask her question instead of such a roundabout manner.

Nor did he really enjoy being around her because…he did strange things around her. Like the night before. He kissed her. For no particular reason.

That action…it confused himself. It had just…happened. A spur of the moment thing. Nothing…big. Indeed, since all romantic sentiments were overrated and unnecessary in the pathway of becoming a great ninja. Which Itachi was already.

Miho had lapsed into silence, looking rather bored as she leafed through one of the medical journals that a nurse had brought them. Itachi's share was stacked up neatly on the stand next to his bed; the Uchiha was instead lying on the whitewashed mattress, staring insipidly up at the ceiling. His body still hurt, but it was getting to the point where he was more annoyed with the stale lack of movement than the pain itself.

"If you're so bored," said Miho irritably after Itachi's umpteenth sigh, "read the journals."

"I've already read them all."

"No, you haven't," she said sourly, flipping the page. "You opened each one of them and looked through it for five minutes—you haven't read them all. You just skimmed."

"I've read each one," said Itachi jadedly, "three times."

"There's a limit to how far your genius can go, Uchiha. Stop bluffing and read the damn thing."

"Which one are you reading?" he asked. "_The Medical Achievements of the Konoha Hospital_, Issue Thirty-three?"

He heard rustling and knew that Miho had flipped to the cover of her journal to check.

"Yes," she said curtly. "What of it?"

"What page are you on?"

"Fifty-six."

"Starting from the second paragraph, first sentence: 'Five years after the Sandaime was initiated as Hokage, the Konoha Hospital discovered an unnamed jutsu that directly removes poison by extracting it through liquefied bubbles of emulsified herbs mixed with chakra. While a dangerous and delicate procedure, it is often used in drastic situations where an antidote can not be prepared in time. Discovered primarily by Senju Tsunade, a student of—"

"Okay, I get it," said Miho sourly, throwing the book at his face after finding that he was quoting the magazine word for word. "No need to show off."

"Not showing off," he said simply, catching the journal and putting it neatly with the rest of the pile. "Just proving a point. I'm bored and in pain, Chiaki-san…humor me a bit and deal with my whining."

Miho exhaled and stood up, walking over to him and placing a hand on his forehead. The contact startled him a bit, but he did not pull away.

"You're a bit warm," she remarked, easing him into sitting position as her hand trailed down to his neck. She did not seem conscious of the physical touch. "Do you want some water? Or—"

"When you asked if I liked you more than a friend," interrupted Itachi, "does that include…wanting to kiss you?"

Miho stared at him, her expression bewildered and almost wary. Itachi regretted the words instantly, and looked away whilst shrugging off her touch.

"Just wondering," he said casually, leaning his head on the pillows. "The water, please."

Miho silently handed him a glass, which he downed gratefully and quickly. He was aware of the strange stare that she kept fixated on his face, and shuddered involuntarily.

"Forget what I just said," he said. "It was a slip of the tongue."

"Does that mean you want to kiss me?" she asked.

"No."

"Really?" she said curiously, sitting down on his bed and leaning closer. "Because yes, wanting to kiss me means that you definitely feel something more than a friend—"

"Chiaki-san, I was merely experimenting last night," Itachi said shortly. "Do not take it into deep consideration."

Miho's eyes narrowed, and she leaned away, her expression now angry. She did not say anything, instead taking the empty glass away from Itachi's hands and heading back over to the sink.

"Forgive me," Itachi said wearily, resting his eyes. It was strange; he seemed more exhausted not using his Sharingan than if he had them activated all day. "I didn't mean to sound crass…it wasn't experimentation, it just…"

"I don't need an explanation, Uchiha," she said bluntly. "We dislike each other. That's fine. I'm only here because my father likes to hit me if I don't serve your every need."

Itachi's eyes fluttered open.

"He hit you?" he said, stunned.

"No, he hugged me last night and told me I was a wonderful daughter for failing a mission and letting Konoha's greatest ninja finish the mission himself and in the end, I was _still_ being ungrateful to him even though he was hurt so badly that he had to be hospitalized while I'm fine and dandy," snapped Miho, her back facing him as she slammed the glass down onto the counter. Itachi stood up gingerly, stretching his aching limbs in the process, and made his way over to her. "Yes, he hit me! What do you think?! He adores you—you're perfect, you're the best, you're everything he ever wanted from a child, and he was more worried about _you_ being hurt than me—why do you think I hate you—"

Her words cut short as Itachi placed a hand on her shoulder. Miho turned around, her grey eyes flashing in both alarm and anger once she registered the miniscule amount of distance between them.

"What are you doing?" she said. "Get back in bed—that's where the sick belong."

Itachi brought a hand up to her cheek, caressing it lightly. He had thought something of the sort—that is, Hiroki severely accosting Miho—had occurred the night before…but he hadn't thought it was serious. Hiroki, especially after exhibiting the degree of concern over Miho activating her kekkei genkai, did not seem like the type of person who would so drastically react to a simple violent action on Miho's part.

Her cheek—flawlessly smooth skin, she had—was not swollen. A streak of red marked her pale cheek; an evident remnant of what happened the night before.

"Why are you touching me?" said Miho coldly, slapping his hand away. "Get away from me."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, letting his hand drop but not taking any steps backward. "I didn't think Hiroki-sensei would react in such a manner."

Miho snorted, obviously feigning indifference, but Itachi could discern a slight wildness in her eyes, a stiffening of her back as she tried to inch away but couldn't, for Itachi was leaning heavily on the counter opposite to her, and the most Miho could do was shrink into the wall.

"Get back in bed," she mumbled. "You look like you're going to collapse any minute."

"Quite the contrary," said Itachi, breathing heavily against her neck, "I'm about to scream from boredom any minute. Let's go for a walk."

"No, you need to sleep," said Miho firmly, pressing her hands against his chest in an effort to push him away. Itachi felt his heartbeat change erratically, and his eyes flew to up to hers, trying to see if she had managed to perceive the sudden change in his chakra flow. She didn't seem to have noticed; her face was rather flushed.

"Chiaki-san…are you blushing?" he said, surprised, ignoring his own disturbed chakra and examining hers instead.

"Get in bed, Uchiha," she said sullenly, looking away from him.

He took her by the shoulder and forced her to face him, a smirk gracing his lips as he saw that her cheeks were indeed a flaring shade of red.

"I didn't even do anything," he laughed, "yet you're so—"

"You are _way_ too close for my comfort!" she retorted. "Step _aside_!"

Her chakra was very messy; it was incredibly apparent how disturbed she was by his presence…in a good way, of course.

"Too close?" he said, leaning his face only centimeters away from hers. "Is this better?"

"Uchiha—I will—"

The door slid open, and the two of them turned to see who had just come in and disturbed their rare moment of intimacy.

It was Kakashi.

The white-haired shinobi looked incredibly awkward as he surveyed the scene before him. Of course it was awkward; Uchiha Itachi, famed prodigy locking arms with Chiaki Miho, the girl who had so adamantly professed her hate for him days before.

"I…er, was just coming to see Miho," said Kakashi, "but if I'm bothering you two in the middle of something—"

"You aren't," said Miho furiously.

"You are," said Itachi simultaneously, feeling somewhat annoyed of having been disturbed.

"No he _isn't_," she snapped, pushing Itachi away. "You are being a complete _ass_."

"Chiaki-san, perhaps you're the one who's feeling like we're more than friends, mm?" chuckled Itachi, finally leaning back and allowing her to regain her sense of personal space. "You blush so easily—"

"Uchiha, if you weren't mortally wounded and about to keel over any minute, I'd kill you myself," she seethed. "Get back in bed and shut up."

"Perhaps you'd like to join me?" he offered.

"Uchiha!"

"Just kidding, just kidding," said Itachi mildly, making his way back to the bed. "Fine, I'll go back to bed and pretend I don't exist so you can have some pleasant privacy with your favorite senpai—"

"_Uchiha_!"

"Just kidding, just kidding," said Itachi again, less amused as he felt Miho's anger and embarrassment skyrocket. "Don't kill me."

"If you don't shut up—"

"Shutting up."

Miho let out an aggravated groan and walked toward Kakashi, much to Itachi's disappointment.

"Stay in bed," she said, pointing her finger threateningly at Itachi. "You better be in the same exact place when I come back—don't you dare move an inch—"

"Yes, Mother," said Itachi with a roll of his eyes. "Just go and have fun with—"

It seemed that Miho wasn't going to wait to listen to the rest of Itachi's statement; she pushed Kakashi out of the doorway and slammed the door shut seconds later, leaving Itachi alone. The young Uchiha prodigy gave a sigh, breathing in deeply and exhaling in a ritualized manner. He was tired. Playing the flirt was an exhausting task indeed.

* * *

"So…" said Kakashi slowly as the two of them walked down the hallway of the hospital. "I—"

"Don't even say anything," said Miho snappishly. "I hate him. I hate his _guts_. He's arrogant, ridiculous…and he thinks he can _get_ to me. He thinks that after getting me into so much trouble, he can get away with everything. Too bad. He's an ass, and once I get—"

"Miho, don't you think you're being a bit silly?" said Kakashi dryly. "From the looks of it, you were overreacting…"

Miho bit tongue, now directing her childish anger at Kakashi. However, she was never quite able to be visibly hostile toward Kakashi, so she simply contented herself with seething in sullen silence.

"I heard that you'd been injured from your mission, so I came to see how you were," said Kakashi. "Sorry I couldn't come by any sooner—I only got back from a mission late last night. And I…er, fell asleep for a long time."

"It's okay," said Miho in her usual curt manner. "I'm not that badly injured. Uchiha seems to be in much worse shape."

"…Was it your fault or something?" said Kakashi concernedly. "You seem to be feeling guilty…"

"I…kinda fainted," mumbled Miho, looking away from Kakashi. "And he had to take care of everything, and he got injured while trying to take care of me while finishing the mission. So yes, it was my fault."

"…So this is why you're taking care of him?" said Kakashi, sounding amused. "Ah, I guess I got my hopes up too high—I thought you were actually getting along."

"Obviously not," she said.

"…And now…you seem to be lying."

Miho sighed and fixated her eyes on a nurse who was walking in their direction.

"What do you want, senpai?" she said wearily. "I don't want to really just talk about nothing…"

"Just checking up on you," said Kakashi cheerily. "Had to see how my favorite little protégé was doing, mm?" He tousled her hair lightly as his eyes grew a bit softer. "And…I wanted to apologize for what I said last time. I might have been a bit too…conceited, and I didn't mean to be."

What had happened last time? She gave him a confused look, only to have the past events dawn on her.

Oh right.

She had confessed to him.

"I-it's okay," she said, looking away again, feeling embarrassed. "It's fine."

"…You sure?" he said gently.

"Yeah," she said, knocking off his hand. "I'm fine."

"…You're embarrassed," he remarked. "And…a bit angry."

Miho met his gaze evenly.

"Why do you seem to be able to read all my emotions?" she said squarely.

"Because…" said Kakashi slowly, "it's not hard to. At…all…which is strange…it was much more difficult before. Did something happen to your chakra?"

Miho pursed her lips.

"What do you mean, my chakra's easy to read?"

"Well, your expression is where I get the specific emotion you're feeling," he said, "but your chakra flow is very…stilted. Normally, it flows incredibly easily and evenly throughout your body."

Miho frowned deeply; she had realized that her chakra flow was responding extremely sensitively to her emotions ever since she woke up, but she'd brushed it off as an effect of the poison from the mission.

But now that she thought about it, she'd looked at her medical files earlier last night, and she hadn't seen anything about a poison…had Itachi been lying to her? But why? There was no reason to…

"I'm…going to go check on Uchiha," she said, stepping slowly away. "I…I'll see you later."

Kakashi nodded, patting her on the head again, looking a bit worried.

"Come find me once Itachi-kun gets discharged; Asuma and I still owe you a meal for being inaugurated into ANBU."

Miho nodded distractedly, then after waving in farewell to Kakashi hastily, she stepped quickly back in the direction of the room that Itachi was in. After inching past a few cabinets and nurses, she managed to arrive and opened the door, surprised and somewhat pleased to see that Itachi was actually still in bed like she had asked him to be.

"Are you still in pain?" she asked.

"Yes," he said dully.

"…It's your fault," she said. "You're that badly wounded and you still tried to get up."

"No, I'm in pain because I need to move and I can't."

"Such exaggeration."

"No, I seriously haven't moved an inch."

Miho stepped closer, eyes clouding in worry. It seemed like he really hadn't moved since he'd lain down.

"I wasn't being literal, you idiot," she said. "Of course if you don't move an inch, you'll be in pain—"

"I want to go on a walk," he said, sitting up.

"The nurses won't let you," said Miho warningly, leaning against the door after she shut it. "I had a question to ask you—"

"I'll answer it if you let me go on a walk," he said flatly. "I'm bored. Humor me a bit."

Miho sighed and walked over to him, helping him stand up. He was leaning on her quite heavily…almost more than he needed to be. She arched an eyebrow at him in inquiry.

"Are you really this badly wounded and in need of support, or are you just faking?"

"Chiaki-san," he said, ignoring her question, "to the door, please."

"You're in a hospital gown—it could hardly be more obvious if you go out dressed like that."

"Fine," he conceded. "Go get me some clothes."

"Uchiha, I am not your slave," she said tartly.

"Chiaki-san, I am physically incapable of getting my clothes right now."

Miho gave an irritated exhalation and yielded. After making sure that Itachi was fine standing up by himself, she went to the closet and pulled out his casual clothes. She glanced through it briefly, and after ascertaining that a clean pair of pants and shirt were amidst the stack, she tossed it over to him.

"Thank you," he said as he caught them. "Now, if you could help me undress—"

"In your dreams, Uchiha," said Miho coolly. "I'll just step outside…"

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi patiently, "I'm physically incapable of dressing myself right now."

"If you're physically incapable of dressing yourself, you're physically incapable of walking!"

"Walking doesn't require my upper torso movement," he said pointedly, "and that's exactly what hurts right now."

"Too bad," she said, walking outside and shutting the door.

She waited for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. Itachi was really too confusing. And it was also strange that she seemed emotionally incapable of remaining angry at him for very long. And he was a flirt. Who would've expected that? He was an _extremely_ flirtatious person…or was it just around her? Well, that made her feel slightly special…so did she like it when he was flirting with her? Would she feel jealous if she saw him with someone else?

Miho scowled. What was she—the clingy girlfriend? She didn't even _like_ Itachi…not in the slightest…

"Chiaki-san…" Itachi's husky voice seeped through the thin door standing between them.

"What?" she said.

"I really am physically incapable of putting on my shirt—it hurts to raise my arms over my head."

"Go shirtless."

"Fine by me."

Miho let out a frustrated groan and reentered the room, slamming the door behind her.

"You are by far the most infuriating person I've ever met…"

Her voice trailed off as she realized that Itachi was presently shirtless, and that his being shirtless was probably way better than his putting on a shirt at all. What a beautifully tan and chiseled torso…his muscles rippled as he handed his shirt over to her. Miho blinked, shaking her head as she took the shirt. Now was not the time to be gawking at the world's most infuriating person's body…

Miho stepped closer to him, slipping the short-sleeved shirt over his head. But before she tugged it below his shoulders, her hands naturally ghosted over his chest, lingering over the toned abs…then sliding up to his neck, fiddling with a peculiar necklace that dangled at his collarbones…then slipping back over to his heart. Miho's thin fingers poised gingerly over his unstably beating heart, tracing over it gently…

"Chiaki…san…" said Itachi softly.

The male body was much more different than she'd expected…wasn't it normally…unnoticeable? Nothing that caught her eye…Miho was used to seeing shirtless ninjas walking through the streets of Konoha, especially on the sweltering days. But never had she thought that they were beautiful…her fingers unconsciously trailed patterns over his hard skin, lightly…ghosting…

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi again, a bit more urgently, almost strained.

Miho blinked and jerked her hands back, blushing furiously.

"I…" she said, racking her brain for an excuse but unable to find anything satisfactory in explanation of why she was feeling up on him. "I—I'm sorry, I have no idea what—"

Itachi's hand slinked around her neck, pulling her to him, and Miho felt his lips meet hers. Unlike before, where it had been quick and simply soft, this one lasted, lingered, but was still equally soft…even better…

"I lied," he said as he pulled away, breathing a bit harshly. "I was experimenting last night. But just now wasn't—"

Miho leaned forward on her own accord and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and savoring the thrill that rushed through her body. Kissing was _good_, it was amazing, and Itachi tasted so…

Itachi, still weakened, stumbled from her added weight and they landed on the bed. Miho's hands curled into Itachi's hair and tugged out his hair-tie, letting the black silky strands fall around her fingers. Itachi's arm slid under her stomach, then around her waist as he gripped her tightly against his torso.

His hand fiddled the hem of her shirt and began to tug it upwards. Miho jerked away, suddenly hit with the realization that what she was doing wasn't appropriate, wasn't even _feasible_. She got up hastily and stepped back a few feet, breathing harshly.

Itachi, on the other hand, hardly seemed perturbed. He looked more…bemused. He simply stared at his hands, then turned his dark eyes to Miho, who shivered unconsciously under his gaze.

"I don't know what happened," she said. "I—I'm sorry, that was completely unexpected and uncalled for—"

"Chiaki-san—"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, conscious of the blood that was flooding her cheeks. "I—"

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," chuckled Itachi as he finally finished putting on his shirt, slipping his arms through the sleeves and tugging it down. "It seemed to be a mutual action…though I suppose this answers your question…wanting to kiss you means that I like you more than…normalcy dictates…but I can say the same for you, mm?"

"I…" she said falteringly. "I don't like you."

"Mm-hm," he said dubiously, walking over to her. It seemed like he didn't have trouble walking at all. Leaning on her earlier had been faked.

"I don't," she reinstated.

"Chiaki-san, you are terribly, terribly stubborn," he said, absolutely unfazed with what had just happened. "But…all in due time, as they say. Even the most hardheaded people come to their senses sooner or later…"

* * *

They managed to sneak out of the hospital unnoticed by the nurses. Itachi seemed to be in quite good shape, actually—he had been fine with jumping out the second story window. Miho, on the other hand, had snagged her foot on the windowsill as she jumped and thus had landed in a rather ungainly manner.

They were presently walking through the busy streets of Konoha; Itachi stopped here at there at vendors, getting some food even though he'd eaten only a few hours before. Miho loitered a few meters behind, feeling uncomfortable around him. After those few stolen kisses, why was Itachi still acting normal? Was he not affected? Did he think they didn't matter? Or was she just overreacting?

"Chiaki-san," he said.

Miho snapped out of her reverie and took a step back upon realizing that Itachi was right in front of her, holding out a box of mochi.

"Some mochi?" he asked politely. "I thought you might be hungry."

Miho shook her head, walking away from him. Unfortunately, Itachi caught her hand and pulled her back to him.

"You want to leave?" he said, sounding surprised. "Why?"

"I just…" she said jerkily, trying to tug her hand out of his. "I—"

"Didn't you have a question to ask me?" he said gently, as if trying to calm her down.

"No—I—"

"It must be an important question," commented Itachi. "After all, you helped me sneak out of the hospital in return for its answer. I feel obliged to answer it."

He pulled her hand a bit gently, egging her toward him. Miho seemed hyperaware of the 3.2 inches that remained between their shoulders.

"Chiaki-san?"

"I just wanted to know if anything happened to my chakra on the mission," she said quickly, still struggling to free her hand from Itachi's vice-like grip. She wanted to occupy her mind with something other than kissing Itachi. "Kakashi-senpai said that he could sense disruptions in my chakra easily, and I was just wondering if something might've happened because I didn't see a poison on my medical charts."

Itachi's grip finally relaxed, and Miho snatched her hand away swiftly. She then forced herself to look up at him, mildly shocked to see that he wasn't looking at her, but off into the distance.

Miho followed his gaze, seeing her father's figure a few vendors away. Her stomach dropped;

Hiroki would be furious if he found out that she had let Itachi take a stroll that was obviously not good for his health. Itachi took her wrist again and pulled her in his direction, gesturing with his head to follow him to the bridge. They strode quickly away from the city, away from all the hustle bustle of gambling men with cards and die, stern mothers with their fickle children…Miho and Itachi's footsteps matched in rhythmic motion, and upon getting to the bridge, they finally stopped.

"Sorry," he said, still leaving his hand entwined with hers. "I just thought you wouldn't want to speak to your father right now."

Miho shook her head slowly.

"Uchiha," she said, gray eyes preoccupied with his fingers interlocked with hers, "if you could let go of—"

"Mochi?" he interrupted, holding out the box again.

"No, I'm fine," she said, getting a bit annoyed that he seemed so adamant as to not let go of her hand. "Look, we're not an item—I don't know what happened back in the hospital, but I don't like you, so please let go of my hand."

Itachi stared at her inquisitively, then bent closer to her face. Miho frowned, willing herself not to flush, but her heartbeat betrayed her, for it immediately accelerated. Her chakra must have reacted as well, for Itachi grinned, having evidently noticed.

"Why do you seem so sure that you don't like me?" he inquired. "Your physical reactions certainly begged to differ."

"I was just…curious—"

He leaned in and kissed her again, quickly and assertively. Miho immediately flared and pushed him away with her free hand.

"People are watching!" she said frantically. "Don't do that—you don't mean it!"

"Maybe I don't," he admitted. "But at the same time, maybe I do. However, I at least can admit it. You just seem downright confused, Chiaki-san."

"Well, yes, I am," she said, cheeks tingeing. "But you're not making it any better."

"What exactly are you confused about?" he questioned. "_Why_ you could possibly like me, perhaps? I think I can help you in that department…elucidate a few reasons…"

He placed his mochi on the wooden railing of the bridge and held up his free hand, ticking off each finger as he named a reason.

"You find me physically attractive," said Itachi, looking up as he thought. "No, don't deny it, Chiaki-san, you're the one who instigated what happened in the hospital room…so looks-wise, you like me. Second, I'm one of the most likely few people you can tolerate."

"I can_not_ tolerate you," said Miho defiantly.

"I beg to differ," said Itachi with a smirk. "I'm sure if you tried hard enough, you could easily leave me to suffer in the hospital by myself. You could even guilt-trip me in lying to your dad that you actually did stay."

"I'm just an honest person," Miho said coolly.

"Mm-hm," said Itachi skeptically. "Okay then, number three. I'm actually—forgive me if this is insulting—I'm actually one of the few people who can tolerate you."

"…Excuse me?"

"It's true, isn't it?" he shrugged. "You have a very antisocial attitude, a tongue that is willing to lash out on even the nicest person—"

"Are you calling yourself nice?" she said disapprovingly.

Itachi feigned a few seconds of thinking.

"Yes," he replied airily. "And so continuing where I left off, yes, I'm one of the few people who can tolerate you, an exclusion being Kakashi-senpai, whom you also openly like—"

"Uchiha, shut up already," Miho said coldly.

Upon noticing her abruptly frigid demeanor, Itachi stopped with his teasing and looked at her seriously.

"I don't want to talk about this," she continued. "I don't like you. That's final."

"Why?" he said, bringing a hand up and fingering a strand of her hair. She brushed it away instantly.

"I don't want to answer. You should, however, answer the question I asked you—what happened on the mission? Did something happen to my chakra?"

"That question…" he said with deliberate slowness, "I'm technically not allowed to answer it."

"What do you mean?" she said, her silvery eyes narrowing. "What's wrong with me?"

"Your father asked me not to tell you," replied Itachi. "Though at this point, after learning how he treated you, I don't really care…"

"Is it a big problem?" said Miho, alarmed. "Am I dying? Is there a bomb inside me?"

"What?" said Itachi, his expression crossed between amused and worried. "No, you're not dying. It's just…" He lowered his voice. "You activated your kekkei genkai on the mission."

* * *

It was nighttime when they returned to the hospital room, again, unnoticed by the nurses. It was upon Itachi's urging that Miho return with him, especially since she hadn't said a word about receiving the news of her kekkei genkai activation.

She sat in stupor on the stool, leaning against Itachi's bed as he lied down on it. Miho's eyes stared blankly ahead as she thought.

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi gently, his hand brushing her cheek, "are you all right?"

"So I _am_ dying," she said numbly, slapping his hand away.

"What?" was his stunned response. "No, you're not. You just activated your kekkei genkai—I don't know about you, but among the Uchiha, that's a celebratory factor—"

"I'm _dying_," she said bitterly, turning to face him. "The Ishachi isn't like your Sharingan, Uchiha. This takes my life force. This _uses_ my life force. No matter how much I try to restrain it—I'm going to die."

"Everyone dies," said Itachi simply. "The Ishachi is just another weapon that can save others—"

"While killing me in the process," said Miho. "It'll drain my life away, transferring it to other people—I don't want that. I don't want to give my life away to strangers."

"…No one asked you to—"

"But that's what expected of me," she said, turning around again. "The Saruji are self-sacrificial; we're expected to sit there and mix our blood with medicine and give it away to people and heal others while using our own lives and—" She was starting to sound like she was about to cry. "I don't want to…die for people I don't know, or more or less care about."

"…Chiaki-san, that's the duty of a ninja," said Itachi heavily, winding one arm around her shoulders. "Get over it."

Miho pulled herself out of his grasp and turned around fully to glare at him.

"This is a rather touchy subject for you, isn't it?" she said tersely. "Whenever I mention my selfishness about my kekkei genkai, you get irritated. Why?"

Itachi didn't answer, simply shifting a bit around on the mattress. A shadow of discomfort passed over his attractive face, pained. He instinctively clutched his chest.

"Don't try and fake it," she said dryly. "I know you're hardly in pain anymore—you were absolutely fine with power-walking outside…"

Again, he didn't answer. Miho noticed his breath grow raspier, shallower, and it seemed that it was difficult for him to breathe in deeply. Troubled, she stood up, pushing back her chair with a creak as she took Itachi's broad shoulders into her hands, easing him so that he was leaning against her.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly. "Should I call a nurse?"

"I'm fine," he said, breathing raggedly. "It seems like it wasn't the most brilliant idea to…briskly walk."

"…Exactly what happened on the mission?" she said sternly. "You're hiding something—so I activated my kekkei genkai and that was it? I still don't understand why you're so badly injured."

Itachi stiffened. "Akira and Hatori were…er…"

"Please," she said sardonically, "you don't expect me to be dense enough to believe that ten of them could take on one of you."

Itachi winced at her acerbity, unwillingly bringing his gaze to meet hers.

"If I…tell you…could you please not react angrily?" he said anxiously. "I'd rather you not be any more upset at me than you already are…or were, on and off today."

"What did you do?" she said icily.

"I was slightly injured," admitted Itachi with obvious traces of culpability. "And then…curiosity got the better of me…and I…tasted your blood." He winced again after his words. "I know it's stupid…in retrospect…but I just wanted to see if your blood could _actually_ heal wounds. I wasn't fully…aware of the repercussions."

Miho stared at him, stunned.

"…So…my blood did that to you?" she said. "_I_ did that to you?"

"No, not you directly," said Itachi quickly. "I did it to myself…your blood was just the…causing factor…"

_She_ had hurt him. It was her fault. Her blood…she had been arrogant enough to believe that all it could do was help others and hurt herself. She had glossed over the fact—the obvious fact—that she was perfectly capable of hurting others as well.

And Itachi at that. Bedridden for weeks. Because of her.

Itachi seemed to notice that she was stricken at the news.

"Chiaki-san," he said softly and reassuringly, "it wasn't your fault—please don't blame yourself. It was obviously my doing—"

Miho silently brought a hand to Itachi's chest, finding the thumping of his heart under her palm and letting it linger there as she counted each pulse. It was slow…erratic…unhealthy. Her heart twisted in guilt and discomfort—to think that this happened because of what was flowing through her _body_, corrupt, disgusting, leeching…

"…Can I stay here tonight?" Miho asked. "I need to make sure you're okay."

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi urgently, "you don't need to. It _wasn't_ your fault."

He cupped her face in one hand and traced a finger down her cheekbone with the other, liltingly, soothingly…

"You should go home," he said quietly. "You look tired. You were only discharged this morning, after all."

"I'll stay," she said with finality. "I should."

As Miho looked into Itachi's onyx eyes, she realized exactly how…deep they were. Their conversations—long-winded and often involving far too many topics for the norm—always left her…wanting more. Was it his presence or her guilt that made her want to stay? She couldn't be sure.

"You should go," he said firmly. "It's uncomfortable here…"

"I'm fine."

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi wearily, "go home."

"Uchiha, I, for once in my life, _wish_ to stay with you. Besides," she said tiredly, "I won't be able to fall asleep at home if I'm worrying about you."

She thought she saw his lips twitch in a triumphant smile, but it vanished so quickly, she was sure she had imagined it.

"Good to know you're worrying about me," he said with a slight chuckle. "Nevertheless, I'll be the one worrying if you don't sleep well. A little assistance from me, perhaps?"

Before Miho could react, Itachi grasped her face in both of his hands and pulled her completely to him.

"What are you—"

Her words fell silent as she stared into a pool of beautifully swirling red that drew her inevitably into the depths of his eyes; she felt a slumber claim her body; a weariness that had not existed prior to this sight seized her limbs. Miho felt her eyes flutter shut as her body relaxed against Itachi's.

A fleeting sense of a kiss ghosted her lips. A fleeting sense of comfort. Then, it disappeared.

* * *

**Free Talk**:

Hi everyone~ Thanks for the fantastic response last chapter! :) This chapter is a bit longer, though still fast-paced (sort of?) and with a lot of dialogue. I did enjoy typing it, but the transitions might seem strange because I didn't type it all in one go...haha. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.

I would talk more, but it's almost midnight, so I'll upload a longer discussion on my LJ tomorrow. For now, enjoy! And please review! That would be wonderful. :) I know I'm stretching Itachi's personality; hopefully this will be as far as it goes.

xoxo,  
m.n


	6. Back to the Start

**Chapter 6: Back to the Start**

"Thanks for coming to get her," said Itachi with a nod to Hiroki as he picked up Miho's still figure. "I would've taken her home myself, but I'm not feeling all that well still."

"It's no problem," said Hiroki, "but why in the world did you knock her out?"

"She refused to rest, and I am under the impression that she needs to clearly be in bed," he answered. "Her chakra is extremely hypersensitive to the slightest provocations."

"She's always been melodramatic," muttered Hiroki, shifting Miho's weight in his arms. "Did you mention anything about her Ishachi? Did she notice?"

"She noticed," admitted Itachi, "and I told her the truth."

"Itachi-kun!"

"There is no need to hide that fact from her," said Itachi coolly. "Activation of a kekkei genkai should be celebrated, not feared. Chiaki-san will learn to embrace it—if she's so afraid of dying, there are many ways to avoid utilizing her life force whilst still honing her ability. Forgive me if I sound intrusive, but Hiroki-sensei, you should honestly be supporting her, not degrading her. She's confused—she'll need your guidance."

Hiroki pursed his lips at Itachi's boldness.

"I respect you immensely, Itachi-kun, but Miho is my daughter. I hold the highest amount of influence over her."

"Which is why I ask you to support her," said Itachi plainly. "She keeps things that trouble her to herself too much—it'd be good for her to let it out, at least."

"If she needs to vent, perhaps you can deal with it," said Hiroki. "However, I will remain adamant in my initial standing—she will use her Ishachi as little as possible as I find a way to reverse it."

"Hiroki-sensei—"

"If you wish to be her support, Itachi-kun, then I can't say anything against that, but do not expect me to act against my beliefs."

"…Very well…" said Itachi reluctantly.

"I must ask of you a favor—seeing as Miho is still not in the best condition, would it be possible if she remains at your home once you're discharged? I am joining your father on his mission in a few days."

"I'm sure my mother would be fine with that." Miho, thought Itachi silently, would not be.

"Thanks then," said Hiroki with a nod, heading for the door. "Rest easy, Itachi-kun."

"Will do."

As the door shut with a click, Itachi leaned back against his pillows and sighed, resting his head on one hand. He closed his eyes and began to meditate, relishing the silence and lack of people in the room. No nurses, no Hiroki, and no Miho. That girl seemed to just take up all the empty space in the room…

Now that he thought about it, Itachi actually would've preferred if Miho wouldn't stay over at his house. Her presence disturbed him. Threw him off track. When she was gone, he could at least think clearly, and he realized that he was not all that rational around her…the kisses, the questions, the touches, they were all…socially incorrect. Personally incorrect.

Clan-rules incorrect.

Clan members intermarried. The strongest married the strongest to preserve the bloodline. And while Miho was strong to some extent, she was not the strongest. And she was not an Uchiha.

…Why was Itachi thinking about marriage? Ridiculous. He was fourteen. Mature for a fourteen year old, but still much too young to marry. Much too young to be in a relationship. Or, at least be serious about one.

But if he was much too young to be in a relationship, why wasn't he much too young to be out killing people? Or to be killed?

Did the village come above his life? His emotions?

Itachi shook his head, jolting out of his meditation. This was what Chiaki Miho did to him. Challenged his beliefs. The beliefs he had so firmly set in front of him ever since he had become a shinobi. That girl's selfishness was infecting him.

…But it wasn't her selfishness. It was her humanness. Her desperate yet innate desire to retain some sort of non-ninja traits within herself. Miho didn't know that. But Itachi did. Itachi could read her well. Even if she was fun to tease, fun to observe, fun to be around because of her spontaneity, she was not healthy for him. She disturbed him.

Itachi heaved another sigh and slumped down onto his mattress, his black irises combing the ceiling for any defections. He couldn't spot any.

Itachi closed his eyes briefly and reopened them, his Sharingan activated. His vision of the ceiling sharpened instantaneously, letting him spot more than a hundred dents in the tiled ceiling before he winced, deactivating his kekkei genkai as his chest ached suddenly. What was with the Saruji blood? So annoying…he hated being bedridden.

It seemed that Chiaki Miho just invited weakness in Itachi. But he was the one who had invited her into his life. Perhaps it was better to stop. To close that chapter up. To let their strange relationship to return to its normal acquaintanceship, minus the so out-of-place kisses and intense gazes.

It was better to stop.

* * *

Miho did not go see Itachi the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Much to Itachi's relief…and simultaneous disappointment. But that disappointment lessened with each coming day. It seemed that as long as she wasn't there, he was impacted less. Which meant that these wrong emotions still had hope to be squashed out. Which meant Itachi could return to normalcy. To his prodigious normalcy. At least, that would've been what happened had it not been for his health. For some reason, with each passing day, his physical condition grew worse. He remained on the hospital bed for days, feverish and in constant pain. Every day brought an onslaught of delirium.

On the fourth day, Itachi felt the sickest he had felt in his entire life. His entire body shook from the effort he exerted to stay conscious with fever; his insides hurt more than before, beyond his comprehension, and likewise beyond his doctors. They didn't know what to do with the situation.

"The Saruji clan has always regulated their patients carefully, never leaving any documentation with the public hospital," one of the doctors explained to a nearly delirious Itachi. "We have no idea how to…"

His voice trailed off; Itachi could not process the sounds going through his brain. His eyes fluttered shut. No point in trying to think. Nothing seemed comprehensible.

* * *

"Miho," said Hiroki breathlessly, bursting into her room four days after she'd returned home from her adventurous day with Itachi at the hospital.

She was sitting on her bed idly, surrounded by thousands of Saruji journals, all tossed around her room. She looked up lazily at her father, whose flustered nature did not suit him. Something was obviously very wrong.

"What's wrong?" she asked, leafing through a journal.

"Where are all these journals from?" said Hiroki disbelievingly, picking one up and looking through it.

"My floorboards. They've been here for the last five years; I must've read each one through by now. What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's Itachi," said Hiroki, snapping back to his originally anxious tone. "He's in critical danger—they have no idea what to do with him. His condition's worsened since we'd last seen him—they know it's because of the Saruji blood but don't know what to do with it."

Miho pursed her lips, willing her chakra to stay under control. The last three days had consisted of her holing up in her room and trying to control herself. Her emotions, her thoughts, her chakra. All immersed with studying: studying what to do with the blood, how to apply it, when to apply it…if to apply it at all. The more she read Aki's journals, the less she liked her kekkei genkai…but the medical stuff was fun to learn. How to chop an herb, in which way…

"Are the doctor's just stupid?" she said dryly, returning her attention to the journal.

"What?" sputtered Hiroki. "Of course not! He has Konoha's top doctors with him—this has just been a case that they haven't seen in years!"

"Yeah they have," said Miho sordidly. "No one remembers because no one's been stupid enough to drink undiluted Saruji blood in years. More like drink blood at all. Uchiha should earn a place in _Konoha's Book of Magnificent Feats_ for being the stupidest genius to walk the face of the earth."

"Miho!"

"Yes, yes," she sighed, standing up and dusting herself off. "I'll go to the hospital."

Hiroki stared at her. "You can do something about it?"

"Okaa-san had a few cases here and there about stupid people who drank undiluted blood because they thought they could be cured of a paper cut in a jiffy," she said blandly. "There seems to be a remedy for the repercussions of stupidity. For stupidity itself, well, that's a lost cause."

"If you knew about it, then you should've cured him days ago!"

"I thought it'd be funny to see the doctors struggle a bit with the dying hope of the village."

"Miho!"

"Just kidding," she said dully, pocketing a worn blue journal and passing by her father. "I'll be back later to tell you how the idiot's doing—dinner's in the fridge."

"Miho, I hope you know what you're doing," said Hiroki sternly. "This is Itachi-kun—"

"Yes, I know, he's your favorite student of all times. Can't afford to let him die. Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I know what I'm doing."

* * *

"Excuse me," said Miho politely to a nearby Healer. "How to I chop this?"

She was in a greenhouse of the hospital, holding up a particularly large and sturdy bulb of a rather leafy plant. It was funny, how everyone was scurrying about, murmuring about the "dying Uchiha genius" while Miho was feeling perfectly unworried. This wasn't a big deal. Perhaps Miho shouldn't have waited so long to cure him, but it was payback for drinking her blood in the first place, for being a complete ass, and for making her life miserable.

Feelings? What feelings?

The nurse stared at her uncertainly.

"Are you the girl sent here to somehow save the Uchiha boy?" she said skeptically.

"I am indeed," said Miho with equal dislike. "How do I chop this? I remember reading that I'm supposed to chop a Satuki plant up—but I don't know if that means the bulb or the leaves."

"The bulb, typically," said the nurse slowly. "But surely you learned this in the medical academy?"

"Never went," said Miho as she grabbed a kunai from her waist and used the blunt end to squash the bulb so that the juices flowed out into a beaker.

"You're supposed to chop it!" cried the Healer.

"Oh. But the journal said that the juice was supposed to be the key ingredient—how am I supposed to get the juice if I don't squash it?"

"You blend it!" said the Healer exasperatedly.

"…I suppose that would make sense," sighed Miho, dumping the contents of the beaker down the sink. "Trial number two…"

"Would you like me to help?" she said desperately.

"That would be lovely," said Miho, placing the sheaf of paper that had the instructions on it on the table. "Here are all the ingredients you need to get—all I need to is cut myself open in the end and drop a few ounces of blood in the mixture. Everything should be fine after that."

The nurse grabbed the paper and looked it over, her brown eyes darting over the page.

"This makes sense," she admitted, "but there's an actual physical healing ingredient missing—all these are chakra boosters, mind-enhancers—"

"That's what my blood is for," said Miho. "Just follow the instructions. Isn't he dying right this instant? You don't really have time to question this lifeline…"

The nurse glared at her for being so nonchalant but didn't retort—she simply bustled off to find the ingredients. Miho allowed a small smile to grace her lips. She wasn't worried.

After all, it was impossible to die from Saruji blood if the patient had lived past the first week, which Itachi had done. He'd slept through it. What he was experiencing now was a recurrence, and while he was in intense, excruciating pain right now, if they'd just wait it out, he'd be fine in three days with normal medication. The medicine that Miho was preparing was simply a way for him to get better instantly, especially because the fourth day of recurrence was the worst.

Her smile broadened as she began to hum a few random notes, her gray eyes watching the kunai that she flung into the air dexterously. She wasn't a sadist. She was just feeling a bit vengeful.

* * *

"Itachi."

He breathed in slowly and exhaled.

"Itachi," said the voice again.

Another breath. Another exhalation.

"Itachi," said the voice again, urgently.

Itachi finally opened his eyes, blinking as he looked up at an anxious looking Hiroki. He groaned and shook his head as he stood up, trying to clear his thoughts. He could feel the effects of days of fatigue on his aching limbs, but other than that, he seemed to be all right…the internal pain had certainly lessened, if not disappeared completely.

"I told you," said Chiaki Miho's stubborn voice from across the room. "Didn't trust me, flipping a shit when he wasn't waking up the same day the medicine was administered…goodness gracious…I told you it took a day or two to work."

"I'm alive?" said Itachi, surprised as he examined his surroundings. Miho was leaning against the door, her eyes cold as she looked between Itachi and her father, while Hiroki was bent worriedly over Itachi.

"Yes, you're alive," she said. "Great observation."

"Miho," snapped Hiroki, "you've been unbearably crass over the last few days—"

"I saved his life," said Miho pointedly. "He should be thanking me on bended knee."

"You saved my life?" said Itachi confusedly.

"Mm-hm," said Miho, looking at him intently. He avoided her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"…Fine."

"Good," said Miho, walking over to him. "Not feeling feverish or nauseous? The book said that that was a potential side-effect…" She brought a cool hand up to Itachi's forehead, but he shrugged her off instantly.

"I'm fine," he said. "I…feel well, actually." He did not make eye contact.

Miho was not stupid. Sometimes, Itachi wished she was, for it would've made his life a lot easier. It would've been easier to ignore her, pretend like she was just another girl. Immature, quixotic, idealistic. Unfortunately, Miho was not. She, like Itachi, was perceptive to some degree. And she noticed that he was not looking at her.

Thankfully, she did not pursue the topic. Her silver eyes simply narrowed and she fell into sullen indifference.

"You're fine then," she said, turning around to leave. "I'm going to go."

"Miho, you'll accompany Itachi-kun back to his house," said Hiroki. "I'm going to be gone for a few days, and it would be best if you had someone to take care of you—"

"I'm fine," said Miho. "His mother can…well, mother him in peace."

Before Hiroki had a chance to accost her, however, Miho disappeared from the room. Itachi let out a thankful breath. So she would not be staying over.

"I'm sorry for her antisocial nature," sighed Hiroki. "All the same—could you make sure she's safe while I'm gone though? I'm rather confused as to how she took the news of activating her Ishachi—"

"Was she the one who healed me?" interrupted Itachi.

"She remembered such a case in her mother's medical diaries," said Hiroki, "so she knew what to do. So yes, she did."

"Ah. Well, she has my gratitude then."

"I would say it was equivalent exchange, given that you've saved her life before."

"True."

So he didn't need to feel indebted. It was just payback. Everything was back to normal.

He hoped.

* * *

Itachi.

Infuriating Itachi.

Idiotic Itachi. Insufferable, incomprehensible, intolerable Uchiha Itachi.

But Miho didn't know why she was feeling rather upset. Why she was feeling let down. She had expected at least a smile out of him. Perhaps a joke or two.

But why? Why did she care? A week or two—that was how long it had been since their first decent conversation. True, going on a mission and spending a few nights with him deepened a relationship much faster than normal. Saving each others' lives made a relationship rather different from a typical one.

Yet, she was not supposed to be feeling this way. Disappointed. Angry. A little bit…hurt. The tragedies of being a sentimental woman…just because Itachi wouldn't freaking make _eye contact_.

Miho lied on her bed, a book in her hands as she read an entry that had captured her interest for the third time. It was rather obvious as to why it was interesting; Itachi was mentioned in it.

Aki's handwriting was neat and smooth, telling a story that Itachi probably couldn't even remember anymore.

_July sixteenth. Weather: sweltering. Hospital status: overflowing with patients. Current patient: Uchiha K. _

_Lots of bleeding, most of it internal. Very difficult to treat; it seems like he was both poisoned with a weapon as well as completely lacerated by a large shuriken of some sort. I'm rather confused as how to approach it without using my blood. _

_There's a young boy watching. His nephew, perhaps. Definitely a clan member. Maybe around three or four years old. I've tried to chase him out—he refuses to leave. His name is Itachi, he says. He hates war. His relatives are all dying. He hates how much they bleed before they die. _

_I ask him to look the other way as I press a kunai to the palm of my hand. If he hates blood, he shouldn't be here. He refuses to look away. Poor child. We all hate war. I just try to salvage as many lives as I can. I wish he wouldn't look at me, expecting more. Death is death. Lives are lives. There's nothing I can do except use my Ishachi and hope for the best_.

Aki did not write any further, which probably meant that whoever Uchiha K. was, he had died. Aki had normally documented who survived; those who passed on seemed to grieve her so much that she could not document it in the next journal entry.

Miho let the journal fall to the floor as she stared up at the ceiling blankly. She then brought her hand up in front of her face, examining the scar across her palm. She hadn't really been sure where to cut herself. It had seemed practical to cut her wrist, but that looked suicidal…so she had gone with her palm. It seemed like her body was not good with recovering from scars; she hoped that the mark wouldn't be permanent.

She still was not extremely sure on what she was supposed to do with her blood. Dropping a few ounces into Itachi's remedy had not been bad, but what if the antidote to a poison required much more? What if a patient was seriously dying? Would she have the gall to cut herself open for them?

Perhaps. Aki did not seem terribly strong. Wasn't Miho stronger? And if Aki could do it…well, so could she. Right? Miho wasn't sure.

The door bell rang. Miho looked at the clock. Five p.m. Itachi must've been discharged already. Miho shut her eyes and tried to sense the chakra outside her home. It was miniscule, almost negligible. Definitely not Itachi. Strange. Had she hoped it was?

The door bell rang again, this time more annoyingly. Miho frowned and stood up, making her way out of her room and down the stairs, finally to the door. She peered outside the peephole. No one. Strange.

She opened the door, surprised to see a small visitor on her front doorstep.

"Aren't you…Uchiha Sasuke?" she said, bemused. "Why are you here?"

"My mom wants me to invite you over for dinner," he said grudgingly.

"Oh…" Miho paused for a bit, thinking. She didn't really want to go. "It's okay. I already ate. Thanks for the offer."

Sasuke frowned.

"I just walked all the way over here," he said sourly. "You might as well come."

"I'm good."

"Where are your manners?"

Miho counted to three but still could not keep a biting tone out of her response.

"Don't lecture me, kid," she said through gritted teeth. "Your manners are just as bad."

"That's not true!"

"I forgot," said Miho lightly. "You Uchiha are all perfect—I'm sorry, kid, I meant to say that, like your dear brother, you're extremely perfect, and your manners are therefore impeccable. I like your mother very much, but I am a bit tired, and it might be better if you, your brother, and your mother had nice bonding time over dinner to celebrate your dear brother's discharge from the hospital. Good bye."

She stepped back to shut the door and collided into someone behind her.

"You aren't seriously going to shut the door in cute little Sasuke's face, are you?" said Itachi's familiar voice from behind.

Miho whirled around, stepping out onto her front doorstep as Itachi followed her outside her house, closing the door behind him.

"Well then, off to dinner," he said with a slight smile as he turned around and locked the door.

"How'd you get in my house?!" said Miho, stunned.

"Your room's window was open. Forgive me if I was intrusive, but I just invited myself inside."

"How'd you get the key?!"

"It was in your pocket. I just took it. Again, sorry for being intrusive."

He handed the key back to her and nudged her and Sasuke down the steps.

"To the Uchiha compound then," he said pleasantly to her shocked outrage.

Like earlier this afternoon, he was not looking at her when he spoke. Miho narrowed her eyes and didn't comment. It was up to him if he wanted to be an ass.

The walk to the Uchiha's home was quiet on Miho and Itachi's parts; Sasuke filled in the silence with idle chatter on how glad he was that Nii-san was okay, on why he thought Miho was rude. Seriously, the kid needed a few good spankings…

Or maybe they all did. Miho couldn't tell which one of them was being the most immature.

* * *

"Itachi told me that you saved him," said Mikoto, marveling at Miho as they ate dinner. "I'm so grateful—thank you so much!"

"It's nothing," said Miho, blushing a bit with the extended praise. She was feeling a bit guilty for letting Itachi's pain drag out for so long. "I just read how to do it—I didn't really do anything else."

"But still," smiled Mikoto, heaping another scoop of rice into Miho's bowl, "thank you. I would love to have a daughter like you."

Itachi, who had been silent all throughout dinner, abruptly coughed. Miho could see the traces of a grimace and simultaneous smirk ghost his lips. She scowled at him.

"And you're wonderful mother," said Miho politely, "I'm just not sure if I would like to be a sibling of your son."

"Sibling?" said Mikoto, bewildered. "Oh, no, I meant a wife—"

"Okaa-san!" said Sasuke, grimacing visibly. "That's _gross_."

"Oh Sasuke," sighed Mikoto, "grow up."

"Okaa-san," said Itachi patiently, "the Uchiha are supposed to intermarry."

"True," admitted Mikoto thoughtfully. "But Hiroki-sensei has been extremely close to the Uchiha clan for ages, so he's practically an Uchiha anyway."

"Except," said Itachi with growing warning in his tone, "for the fact that he doesn't have the Sharingan."

"But his daughter has the Ishachi," said Mikoto pointedly.

"Okaa-san…" said Itachi, his tone a bit colder now.

Mikoto caught onto his warning this time and simply smiled.

"You're a smart boy, Itachi, and Miho-chan is a smart girl," Mikoto laughed. "I'm just rambling on! Ignore me—it's just the whims of a mother, you know, pairing up my son with a girl I like."

"I think your son and I are a lost cause," said Miho.

"I think otherwise," said Mikoto slyly, standing up and gathering Sasuke's empty dish.

"Okaa-san!" complained Sasuke. "I'm still hungry!"

"You can have mine," said Miho, handing him her bowl. "I'll help with the dishes."

"Oh, dear, you don't need to worry about it—have some bonding time with Itachi, all right?" said Mikoto, taking another empty bowl from Miho's hands. "Why don't you go up to his room and talk a bit?"

"I'll come too," said Sasuke excitedly.

"No," said Mikoto sternly, "you can go do your laundry. Your brother finished his the moment he got home, and he's been in the hospital for the last week."

"But Okaa-san—"

"Now, Sasuke."

Miho laughed a bit at the mutinous expression at Sasuke's face, her laughter dying away the moment Itachi looked up at her peculiarly.

"What?" she said sullenly. "Making eye contact now?"

Itachi simply smiled and stood up, beckoning for her to follow him.

"To my room then, as my mother so anxiously dictates."

Miho frowned and followed Itachi as he led her up the stairs that she had already been up once. He opened the door civilly for her and followed her inside, keen enough to leave the door open in case Mikoto called for them. Or spied on them.

"I suppose thanks are in order," said Itachi as he sat down at the table across from her. "For healing me."

"It wasn't very hard," said Miho.

"…Did you feel any weaker?" said Itachi, his tone politely conversational. "As an effect of your Ishachi?"

"No," she said. "It was only a few drops."

Itachi nodded, looking a bit relieved.

"Good."

Miho nodded as well, feeling no need to continue the conversation when he'd only given one word as a response. The silence stretched on, and Miho placed her hands on the table, tapping her fingers in a rhythmic motion like a pianist.

"Why have you been avoiding my eyes?" she said bluntly.

"…What gives you that impression?" said Itachi amiably.

"I've told you before—don't play dumb with me, Uchiha," said Miho haughtily. "It doesn't suit you."

Itachi sighed and looked at her intently as he leaned his head on his hands.

"Chiaki-san…I think we can both agree that we both act terribly out of character when we're around each other."

"Really?" said Miho with feigned surprise. "I surely don't think so. I'm the same: annoying, antisocial, and unbearably bitter."

"Please," he said. "Playing dumb doesn't suit you either."

"Well that's a compliment," she said, balancing her chin on her hands as well as she engaged in the staring match. "So we act out of character. You don't like that. It means you're not perfect around me. That annoys you, because the Uchiha much be perfect."

"That's not the point, Chiaki-san."

Miho pursed her lips, looking into his eyes unwaveringly. He seemed disturbed with her willingness to continue the eye contact, but he didn't look away. His chakra, though, was easy enough to read.

"It's weird," she said lightly. "A week ago, you were the one telling me that there was some mutual attraction between us. Now, you're acting like we should return to what we were in the beginning: acquaintances. Do you want that?"

"Perhaps," said Itachi, leaning back against his bed. "Do you?"

Miho didn't answer. She didn't know what to say. Truthfully…

"Fine," she said, standing up. "That's fine with me."

"Maybe we're just not compatible," sighed Itachi. "There are too many regulations in the way."

"True."

"It might be best for us to remain simply acquaintances."

"Acquaintances," nodded Miho, her hand balling up into a fist.

"Yes," said Itachi, getting up and nodding while he approached her. "Acquaintances. That'd be best."

"The best," she agreed, wheeling her arm back and punching Itachi square in the nose.

Or, that was what would've happened if things had gone her way. Itachi, always on guard, caught her fist in one hand and retaliated immediately, pressing her firmly against the wall, his fingers digging into her throat. She gasped, taken back with his forcefulness, startled with the deep wariness in his eyes.

"Why are you trying to get close to me?" he said quietly.

"I'm not trying to get close to you," she said, struggling with his hand. "Would you let me go?!"

"Are you trying to make me weaker? Loosen my resolve?" His eyes turned into their bright and malicious Sharingan, and Miho felt her heartbeat accelerate with fright.

"What the hell are you talking about?! Let me go, you _ass_, Uchiha!"

But she was already captured in some genjutsu; the room had faded away and all that surrounded her was the swirling red. Miho looked around her, unable to breathe in for fear of being attacked. She pressed her hands instinctively together, trying the customary chakra release, but to no avail. Itachi's genjutsu was much too advanced for her to break out of by herself.

"Uchiha, let me out of this," she said shakily as the atmosphere around her condensed in menace. "You're being idiotic—let me out…"

She didn't know why being in this genjutsu was so much worse than being in a real life-and-death situation. Why was Itachi's killing intent so frightening? So much scarier than Akira's had been? She shut her eyes blindly, willing herself to control her volatile chakra before it spiked out of control. Think, think, think. There had to be a way…overcome the fear, think clearly…but it was all impossible.

And then it all melted away. Itachi returned, the plain, personality-less room reappeared, and she was standing there, Itachi's hand still grasped around her throat; she was still pressed against the wall, looking into his eyes that were now so thankfully black. Miho realized that her legs were shaking uncontrollably. Itachi looked at her uneasily, as if unsure with both her and himself, and stepped back, finally letting her go. Miho collapsed onto the floor, her neck throbbing painfully as she stared up at his guilty face.

"What were you trying to do?" she said in a voice much unlike her own. It sounded like it was on the verge of tears.

"I…"

"I don't know what's going on through that head of yours," she said in that same too-feminine voice, massaging her throat as she stood up, "but you are way too mistrustful for your own good. I wouldn't try to do anything to you. I don't want to have anything to do with you. At all. That genjutsu was…I…"

She was lost for words, and for once in her life, her sharp tongue failed her. She just shook her head in disbelief, her body still shuddering wildly.

"Chiaki-san—I didn't mean to—"

"Forget it," she said, turning around to leave. "We're back to square one. Ignoring each other."

"Chiaki-san—"

But Miho was already bounding down the stairs, the blood rushing past her ears, her heart pounding still with fear. She hated the Sharingan. Hated it. Hate the Sharingan, hated the Uchiha, hated Itachi.

"Miho!" said Mikoto's voice from the kitchen. "Going already?"

"Yeah," said Miho breathlessly. "Yes, thank you very much for dinner, I appreciated it."

"Is…is everything all right?" said Mikoto concernedly.

"No. Yes, everything is fine," said Miho with a very forced smile. "I'm just going to go home now."

"It's a bit late," said Miho worriedly. "Perhaps you can stay here tonight—"

"No, that's fine—"

"Itachi can walk you home—"

"No, I'm fine!" said Miho for the umpteenth time, her atypical smile seeming more false than ever. "I'm really fine. It's just Konoha—everything will be fine. Thank you for dinner, Mikoto-san."

"It was my pleasure," said Mikoto. "Drop by again some time, all right?

Miho nodded distractedly and headed out the door as fast as she could. It took her a while to realize that Sasuke was following her closely behind.

"What are you doing?" she said once she noticed him right beside her.

"Escorting you home," answered Sasuke primly.

"You're a kid," she said exasperatedly. "I don't need you to escort me, little Uchiha. Go home. It's past your bedtime."

"I'm being a gentleman," he replied stiffly. "Just like Nii-san. He says walking girls home is chiv…chivalry."

"Chivalrous," said Miho, feeling a little bit calmer. "Gentlemanly."

"Yeah," said Sasuke, pleased that Miho had gotten his point. "Chivalrous. Because Nii-san is a gentleman. Everyone says so."

"He's not."

The words were out of her mouth before she could reign them in; she did not even have time to think about the effect they would have on Sasuke, who surely thought the world of his brother.

"…Yes, he is," said Sasuke, but his tone was unsure. "He's perfect."

Miho let out a hollow sort of laugh, shaking her head as she ascended the stairs to her house.

"You keep believing that," said Miho. "You keep thinking that."

"What do you mean?!" said Sasuke angrily. "Nii-san is the best ninja in this village! Don't insult him! He _is_ perfect!"

"Your brother is the farthest thing from perfect in this world," said Miho as she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

"…Why don't you like him?"

Miho didn't answer the question.

"Go home, little Uchiha. You should go to sleep. Thank you for walking me home."

"Hang on, Nee-san!"

"Good night, kid."

"Answer the question!"

Miho, rude as it was, escaped into the folds of her house and shut the door behind her. She let out a breath and slid down to the floor, exhausted. Back to square one. Best idea.

* * *

Miho remained in her home for most of the following week. Reading the journals. Studying. She was starting to consider entering the medical field. Her blood seemed like less of a problem now…perhaps it would put her to better use. She could actually be good at it. And that way, she could easily avoid contest with Itachi. The medical field was much less glorious.

She had already signed up for the next medical academy exam. It would be good for her. It would distract her from thinking about Itachi.

But regardless, Miho did find herself thinking about Itachi much more than she needed to. She didn't know why. She was angry at him for using genjutsu when it had been utterly unnecessary. When she had _healed_ him that day. The freaking bastard…and she hated herself for being so scared of him now.

She was out buying groceries when she bumped into Kakashi in the local supermarket. She hadn't seen him in a while—she had heard he was on an extended mission for the Sandaime.

"Hola," he said, saluting her as he approached. "How's it going?"

Miho shrugged apathetically.

"Decently," she said, picking up a potato and examining it. "How was your mission?"

"Went well," said Kakashi cheerily. "I'm starving though—haven't had good food in ages. Make me some?"

"Sure," said Miho, tossing a few choice potatoes in her bag and paying for them. "Soup?"

"Sure, since that's all you can make."

"Shut up, senpai."

Kakashi chuckled, walking with her back toward her house. The conversation was idle, the atmosphere easily. Miho found herself smiling a little bit, always at ease around Kakashi. It was just so much easier to talk to him…and he would never try to catch her in a menacing illusion like another certain prodigy….

As they neared the Chiaki residence, a familiar profile came into view. Itachi was looking up at Miho's house, a contemplative look on his face, as if debating whether he should knock.

"Oi," said Kakashi, catching Itachi's attention. "If it isn't Itachi-kun."

"Kakashi-senpai," said Itachi, nodding in surprise. "I wasn't aware you'd returned from your mission."

"Got back just this morning," smiled Kakashi. "I haven't had anything to eat, so Miho kindly offered to make me lunch."

"I didn't offer," said Miho lightly. "You demanded."

"I didn't demand, Miho!"

"Forcefully asked?"

"Kindly asked was more like it!"

"Sure, sure," she said with a slight grin. "Into the house then—you can help."

"Fine, fine. Itachi-kun, would you like to join us—"

"No," said Miho firmly.

"…Pardon?" said Kakashi.

"He's not coming in," she said.

Kakashi easily caught on that something had happened between them.

"…Shall I leave you alone?" said the silver-haired ninja understandingly.

"No," said Miho.

"Yes, please," said Itachi simultaneously.

Miho glared at Itachi, who smiled apologetically, but Kakashi followed Itachi's words this time. The senpai sighed and tousled Miho's hair gently.

"Next time, then, Miho," said Kakashi. "And it better be damn good soup."

"Fine…"

"Be polite, my dear protégé."

Miho didn't answer, waiting for Kakashi to disappear from view before she addressed Itachi.

"What are you here for?" she said stiffly, climbing the stairs to her front door. "We're back to square one—we should be ignoring each other."

"My mother wanted to invite you over for dinner again," said Itachi. "She's been worried about you, since you haven't come over any and you're alone."

"I kindly decline," said Miho, opening the door. "Goodbye."

Itachi somehow appeared right behind her and slipped in the house before she could manage to close the door.

"I said goodbye, Uchiha," she said coldly.

"Hello," he said pleasantly. "Would you please just listen to me?"

"Or what?" she said loftily. "You'll trap me in a genjutsu again to make a point? That seems to be your famous pastime lately anyway."

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi. Guilt was etched over his attractive face. "I am truly, truly sorry for that. I-I'd just been thinking about some silly, stupid things and I was frustrated—I didn't mean to let it out on you."

"And yet that's precisely what you did," she muttered under her breath, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.

"Chiaki-san."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"Apology not accepted."

"Then what?" he said frustratingly. "I don't know what else to do—you know as well as I do that we can't very well go ignoring each other."

"That's what I said a week ago," said Miho with awful sarcasm, "but you didn't think so did you? And you said that a week before that, and I didn't think so at the time. We're never on the same wavelength, are we? Isn't that a sign?"

"A sign of what?" he said coolly, stepping closer to her. Miho retreated further into the kitchen, unfazed.

"A sign that we're really not compatible," she said.

Itachi sighed and sank into a chair as he watched her peel the potatoes.

"Chiaki-san…you aggravate me."

Miho let out a short bark of laughter.

"How funny. We really are on the same wavelength then—I was thinking the exact same thing."

"You aggravate me," he continued, ignoring her outburst, "but I don't want to ignore you."

Miho didn't answer, now chopping her potatoes into little slices.

"I…I was getting confused with what was going on in my head whenever I was around you," said Itachi heavily. "Shinobi are…aren't supposed to have emotions. But whenever we're around each other…I feel…normal. Which is wrong. I'm not normal. I'm extraordinary."

"Yes, you are," she agreed.

"But that doesn't excuse my behavior from the other night," he said wearily.

"…No, it doesn't."

Itachi looked at her strangely, as if expecting something more substantial for a response. He then chuckled tiredly.

"Looks like we're on the same wavelength again," he remarked. "It's weird when we agree."

"…You're right," said Miho quietly. "It's odd."

They lapsed into silence. It was strange, how Itachi could just waltz in and apologize so cleanly. And make everything better. Like a package. A gift. With a nicely tied bow on top. And a beautifully written card. With flowers.

Miho really wish she could've kept her grudge up for a longer time.

"Well, I should be going then," smiled Itachi, standing up.

"…Lunch?" she said, holding up her ladle.

He paused, looking startled.

"You…don't mind?"

Miho shrugged.

"I bought enough for two."

"So…you don't mind."

"No. I don't mind."

Relief brushed Itachi's face, and it made Miho feel a bit…happy, strangely enough, to see that he been so worried over her reaction.

"…Not meaning to be greedy or anything," said Itachi uncertainly, "but can we not be back at square one? I…I don't want to be hated like before," he added, wincing.

"Well we certainly can't be at square three."

"What was square three?"

"Kissing."

Itachi paused again.

"Why not?" he said.

"Because you don't like it."

"I don't…mind it."

"Uchiha, if you're going to ask me out, do it right."

"But you're going to say no."

"Says who?"

"We're on the same wavelength right now. You'll say no."

Miho sighed exasperatedly.

"Can't take a rejection?" she said.

"…No?" he grinned.

"I'll say maybe."

"Really?"

"Maybe."

Itachi fell quiet again as Miho brought the bowls of stew over to the table.

"Can this just be a mutual understanding so none of us have to ask?" he said hopefully.

"No," she said adamantly. "You have to ask properly."

"But I need to know beforehand if you say yes or no."

"That just defeats the purpose."

"…So," he said, clearing his throat, professionally, "Chiaki-san, would you like to go out with me?"

Miho smirked. She was feeling utterly vengeful again.

"Nope."

Excellent. They really were on the same wavelength.

What a good feeling.

* * *

**Free Talk**:

Hello everybody! I apologize for the late update! Thanks so much for reviewing. I know Itachi may have been terribly OOC. I apologize. Hopefully it wasn't unreadable? Eek...

I don't really have much to say here in this Free Talk. I really wish I could jump to Shippuden. That would be so much fun. Totally emo, but a lot of fun. :) But no...oh, and concerning the last chapter of Naruto. Did Kabuto revive Itachi's dead body too? Because that's ridiculous. The poor man really needs to rest in peace after his extremely crappy life. I miss Itachi. :(

Please review! I'll try to update soon. Thank you for reading! And please review. :)

xoxo,

m.n


	7. In Which They Doubt

**Chapter 7: In Which They Doubt**

**

* * *

**_"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." --_Hamlet

* * *

Their relationship improved, not surprisingly enough. Miho, at first still crass and sarcastic to Itachi, found herself lightening up to him, more tolerant of his presence. He slowly increased his time around her—first inviting her over for dinner, since Hiroki and Fugaku still hadn't returned from their mission, then eventually coming over to her house for lunch once a week. The number of meetings steadily grew, and Miho found herself bumping into him—by chance or on purpose, she didn't know—more than once a day, whether it was in the market, on her way back from ANBU headquarters, or from a trip to the hospital.

Miho, like Itachi, was perceptive. And just as he could read her, she could discern his thoughts at times. And sometimes, Miho was under the impression that Itachi spent time with her because he wanted to spend less with his family, which seemed absolutely absurd to her. Perhaps it was the pressure that the Uchihas put on him. The need to stay perfect.

Was she flattering herself in thinking that he was more comfortable around her? Able to be…well, imperfect?

When she wasn't pondering such strange and deep thoughts about Itachi though, Miho was studying. Knowing that Hiroki would be less than happy with her choice to enter the medical field, she'd already signed up for the closest examination date, which was swiftly approaching.

A few weeks after rejecting Itachi's offer to date him, Miho sat in the stifling examination room of Konoha's Medical Academy, a pencil poised perfectly over her paper as she furrowed her brows, reading the questions carefully.

_When two patients enter the hospital at the same time, one with a collapsed lung and the other with a punctured, which do you treat first? Explain both your reasoning behind your choice as well as the procedures you would use to approach each patient_…

Miho scowled and began to write, impatient with the procedure and regulation questions. Seriously, did it matter? Why couldn't she just choose both of them to treat at the same time? Both seemed severe…but no, she wrote down the textbook answer as neatly and concisely as she could, then moved on to the next problem.

Nothing save for the scratching sounds of pencil lead across starched paper could be heard in the room for three hours. Miho was already beginning to get restless, glancing over her paper one last time before standing up. It wasn't like she was going to be able to answer all of them anyway, especially the dental ones. If a patient came up to her with missing teeth, the most she'd be able to do was recommend them to the nearest dentist and be done with it…

A few people looked up at her as she approached the examiner; the test had a time limit of five hours, but there was no point in her remaining any longer to brood over impossible questions anyway.

The stern-looking head nurse looked up at her as Miho placed her hefty test packet on the desk.

"Done?" the old woman said, pursing her lips.

Miho nodded listlessly.

The examiner's lips thinned to an even smaller line as she leaned over and picked up the packet, flipping through it and glancing over Miho's answers.

"You seem barely proficient in the dental and dermatological sections," the nurse commented.

"You can say severely inadequate," said Miho dryly. "I didn't find much point in learning the dental section, seeing as I wanted to go into the Intensive Critical Care Unit, and I thought I could pick up the dermatological parts through my residency. Everything else, I managed to learn."

"You're a cheeky one," remarked the old woman. "Need I mention that I am professionally part of the dental unit?"

"A very useless profession then," said Miho lightly.

"Quite the contrary, young lady," said the proctor, her eyes narrowing. "The mouth and jaw are important parts relating to the rest of the body, and it'd be good if you learned it well."

"I've learned the basics," said Miho, tapping her foot impatiently. "Am I dismissed?"

"Young lady, this unprofessional attitude is not encouraging," said the old woman, peering at Miho over her spectacles. "Your name?"

"Chiaki Miho."

"Father would be the prestigious teacher at the Academy then," sighed the nurse. "Mother would be…"

"Dead," said Miho bluntly. "Saruji Aki."

The nurse stiffened at the sound of Aki's name.

"Saruji Aki…I remember her," said the nurse musingly. "Brilliant young woman—too compassionate. That pesky bloodline of hers…always got into her head that she was created to be sacrificed. Sad…when she died. You have the bloodline as well then? The Ishachi?"

"I've recently activated it," admitted Miho, "but I'm going to try and avoid using it. I, unlike my dear dead mother, care for myself over strangers."

The proctor frowned deeper and handed back Miho's test paper.

"You'll sit here the duration of the time," she said severely, "and do your best to answer the ones you've left blank. I'm expecting a perfect score out of you."

"…Excuse me?" said Miho, startled. "I'm not meaning to sound arrogant, but even with the ones I've left blank, I'm quite positive that I passed this exam with over a ninety percent, given that there are over three hundred questions—"

"Your mother got a ninety-nine percent," explained the nurse. "I will expect no less from her daughter. Now go back and think some more."

Miho glared at her.

"I am not my mother," she said coldly. "I'm quite fine with being proficient."

"That lackadaisical attitude is something I wouldn't have expected from Saruji Aki and Chiaki Hiroki's daughter."

"Proctor-san," said Miho chillingly, "I am my own person. Do not expect me to act precisely as my parents and their histories dictate."

"I'll fail you if you don't go back to your seat and take the test," said the nurse in an equally strict voice.

Miho swore audibly and stepped back to her desk, making quite the commotion as she immaturely opened her packet loudly and began scribbling over it nonsensically. A good few test takers stared at her, some in incredulity, some in distaste, and some, hilariously enough, in admiration.

The minutes ticked by as Miho simply began started drawing a mouth full of teeth on her paper.

_The premolar teeth are also known as…_

Before molar teeth, thought Miho mutinously as she circled the premolar teeth on her shoddy diagram. Well, obviously they were bicuspids; had she actually skipped that question?

She scribbled the answer in the blank next to the question and proceeded to the next one apathetically.

_Name and describe three periodontal diseases, as well as their treatments. _

Funny, she knew this one too.

As she was writing down her third point with explanation, (necrotizing periodontal disease), a sharp rapping sound caught her attention. She looked up, distracted, scanning the room for the source of the sound and finally locating it to the window on her right.

A familiar weasel mask peered down at her.

Miho gave a wry smile, waving a bit and holding up her hand with her fingers outstretched, indicating that she would be done in five minutes.

The mask shook from left to right though, and disappeared from view. Perplexed, Miho continued to stare at the window as a pair of hands lifted it up from its hinges and a slim body slipped into the room.

"What?!" said the nurse incredulously. "An ANBU member? What is going on?"

"I'm here to pick up Chiaki Miho," said Itachi's smooth voice from behind the mask as he straightened up. "ANBU headquarters require her presence."

"W-well," sputtered the proctor, "t-this is ridiculous—she is currently in the middle of an exam—"

"By the looks of it, she is finished, and has been finished for the last twenty minutes," said Itachi seriously. "I'm afraid that orders cannot wait. She is to be escorted to the ANBU headquarters immediately."

Miho frowned, unable to decide whether or not Itachi was telling the truth, but upon noticing the slight shift in chakra near his throat, a sign of suppressed laughter, it became clear that the entire scenario was all a joke. Nevertheless, she played along with it, adopting a somber attitude and walking up to the proctor with her test in hand.

"Well, I hope you answered what you could," sighed the nurse, accepting the packet.

"Thank you for your time," said Miho with mock politeness. "Don't fail me."

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi.

"Yes, yes," she sighed, heading back over to him. "Can't we just walk out the door like normal people, ANBU member-san?"

"The window is much faster," he answered, obvious bits of amusement in his voice. "Perhaps you need a boost, Chiaki-san?"

Miho smirked sardonically and leapt out of the window, Itachi's footsteps following her immediately. They continued in the direction of "headquarters" for a few brief minutes, and once they were a significant distance away from the Medical Academy, Miho started laughing.

"Chiaki Miho needs to be escorted immediately to ANBU Headquarters," she said, imitating Itachi's serious attitude. "Ah, the benefits of being in ANBU—able to fool anyone at anytime…such liars."

"Surely you're not complaining," said Itachi, removing his mask and revealing his attractive countenance. "I just saved you from two hours of boredom, though, from the looks of it, the diagram of teeth seemed rather fascinating. I couldn't help but notice that you were missing a molar on one side though."

"That's because I wasn't done with the picture, Uchiha," she said sourly. "Why were you spying on me anyway?"

Itachi shrugged. "You're always rather fun to stalk."

"…Excuse me? Does this mean you've been stalking me, Uchiha?"

"Perhaps," he said, flashing a grin. "By the way, when you sleep—"

"Uchiha Itachi," Miho deadpanned, "if I hear that you are spying on me while I sleep, I will seriously get a restraining order put on you—"

"I was kidding," he chuckled, gesturing for her to enter a local teahouse. "Lunch? We haven't hung out in a while."

"We had dinner together yesterday."

"Well, yes, but that wasn't 'hanging out' because Sasuke and my mother were in the picture."

"Ah," said Miho skeptically as she walked through the door that Itachi so generously opened for her, "so hanging out means alone time, mm?"

"Certainly."

"Well, our last 'alone time' was lunch the day before yesterday."

"Which was quickly interrupted by the presences of Kakashi-senpai, Asuma-senpai, and Kurenai-senpai. Which is not to say that I didn't enjoy their company, it simply detracted from my initial goal to enjoy some classic bonding time with you, Chiaki Miho-san."

Miho gave him an amused look as they slid into a booth at the corner of the teahouse.

"You certainly have gotten more flirtatious lately," she remarked as the waitress came over.

"Nor have you stopped it," he said lightly, leaning back in his seat and looking at her intently. "I daresay you enjoy it."

"I don't, Uchiha," returned Miho primly.

"Then why do you consent to constantly dine with me?" asked Itachi, accepting the menus from the young waitress, who looked like she was trying very hard to catch Itachi's eyes. "Surely you don't _dislike_ my company."

Miho thought for a moment, flipping through the menu.

"I don't dislike it," she agreed. "I do lean more on the 'liking' side."

"Good," said Itachi amiably, putting down his menu. "As do I. Though I must say that this whole flirting business is rather exhausting, and I'd prefer if I didn't have to do it."

"No one asked you to," said Miho dryly.

"I honestly don't know how else to approach you though."

Miho didn't exactly know how to respond to his statement, considering that she didn't truly know how to approach Itachi either, save for their constant banter or bickering.

"Ah, I'll have the oden special," said Itachi to the waitress, who smiled widely at the young prodigy as she collected his menu.

"Certainly," she answered. "And you?" she said to Miho in a much less flattering tone.

"The beef platter," said Miho nonchalantly, handing her menu to the waitress. "And a pot of jasmine tea."

"I'll have green tea," said Itachi. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said warmly, striding away.

"Good service," he remarked once she was out of earshot.

Miho snorted, her gray eyes flickering to meet his, amused.

"Really?" she said. "Only to you, Uchiha. All the ladies are nice to you."

"Except for you," he sighed. "But I—"

They were interrupted by a loud laugh from behind. Itachi looked in Miho's direction past her, causing her to turn as well.

A good-natured, tall man with messy black hair protruding from above his Konoha forehead protector approached them, his lips curled into a grin.

"So this is where you've been, Itachi?" he said, laughing. "I should have known it was a girl! Why else would you skip the meetings—"

"I didn't skip them, Shisui," said Itachi primly, though he was already grinning as well. "I simply left them the precise moment they ended."

"Uchiha Shisui," said the newcomer, extending a hand out to Miho.

"A friend of mine," explained Itachi as Miho slipped her hand into Shisui's rough palm. "One of the more extraordinary ninjas of the Uchiha clan—"

"What else is new," she muttered, nodding a bit in acknowledgment to Shisui.

"Known as Shisui of the Body Flicker," continued Itachi. "He's quite the prodigious one."

"Nah," said Shisui, bringing up a chair to the table and sitting down in it. "Nothing compared to this guy—Itachi's the best that the Uchiha have seen in decades—he's going to be the foundation of the clan once he becomes of age!"

Itachi's smile grew a bit wry.

"Nonsense…"

"And humble as a baby," said Shisui, leaning back in his seat, turning to Miho. "So what's your name?"

"Chiaki Miho," she replied.

Shisui raised an eyebrow.

"Chiaki? Not Hiroki-sensei's daughter?"

Miho simply nodded, feeling no need to continue the conversation. Shisui shot a puzzled look at Itachi, as if asking why Miho wasn't responding with a more verbal response. Itachi smiled, leaning forward and placing his head on his hands.

"Yes, she's Hiroki-sensei's daughter," said Itachi. "Saruji Aki is her mother—"

"Oh, Saruji. You're a healer then?"

"I'm trying," said Miho simply.

Again, Shisui looked confused with her curt answer. Itachi intervened to alleviate the awkwardness.

"Chiaki-san is a bit on the…quiet side," said Itachi slowly. "Well, perhaps 'quiet' isn't the right word—she's obnoxiously loud when she wants to be—"

"Excuse you," she said coolly. "I'm not deaf."

"She's antisocial, cruel, callous, apathetic to humanity—"

"I am not!"

"—has nearly killed me before—"

"That was your fault."

"—has hit me over the head with a metal pan—"

"That was your fault too."

"—but is somehow an ANBU member despite her rashness and is aspiring to be a doctor," finished Itachi. "I believe I've summed up your personality to perfection, Chiaki-san."

"You're an ANBU member?" said Shisui, surprised. "Wow. Kids these days…"

"You hardly look like an adult," said Miho pointedly.

"True," admitted Shisui. "I wish you would've just passed over that observation though."

The waitress came over with their orders and their tea, shooting Shisui a perplexed look at his strange seat in the middle of the aisle.

"Hi," said Shisui, completely unembarrassed. "Can you get me some sake?"

"Um…certainly," she answered, walking away with the same bemused expression.

"Shisui," groaned Itachi, "please don't drink too much. It is flat-out embarrassing when you're drunk."

"Why?" grinned Shisui. "Because I like to hug you in the middle of the clan meetings—in front of your dad, at that—and proclaim to the world how we're made for each other?"

Miho snorted, causing Itachi to shoot her a glare.

"Precisely," said Itachi dully. "You have the saddest alcohol tolerance known to mankind—drink more than a shot and I'll take the bottle away."

"You're underage," protested Shisui.

"Physically, yes," said Itachi. "You're far younger mentally."

"Keep up that mentality, Itachi—"

"I precisely intend to do so—"

"And you'll be an old man before your father," said Shisui with a grimace. "You're so…by the book, Itachi. Boring as hell."

"And you're not?" said Itachi with an arched eyebrow. "I've heard that the Uchiha head just has to say the word, and you're off to complete the mission—on the Uchiha clan's orders—to the letter."

"Yeah," shrugged Shisui, "well, that's different. You're so by-the-book for Konoha. I only follow the rules of the clan—since the clan is much more important."

"Shisui," said Itachi, narrowing his eyes as warning laced his voice.

"What?" smiled Shisui. "What's wrong with upholding the Uchiha pride? We're the greatest clan here."

Miho pursed her lips, sipping her tea and looking elsewhere. She wasn't sure if she liked Shisui. It was obvious that he and Itachi were good friends, but there were some things that Shisui said that clashed precisely with Miho's beliefs. His obvious respect for his clan was the perfect example of patriotic attachment that she so lacked, much like Itachi's definite affection for Konoha. But unlike Itachi, Shisui seemed much more…ardent…and perhaps less tolerable for the other end of the spectrum.

"I wish you wouldn't think that," said Itachi quietly. "The Uchiha are great, true, but I wish we wouldn't be so…arrogant about it. There are many clans here with formidable kekkei genkai—the Hyuuga, for example…"

"Yeah, well, they really can't compare," said Shisui airily.

"Chiaki-san, how's your meal?" said Itachi, changing the subject rather obviously. Either to avoid the continuation of the conversation with Shisui, or to include Miho more in the discussion.

"So-so," Miho said, picking at her meat. "A bit overcooked."

"I'll take it," said Shisui.

"Shisui, could you at least please be more gentlemanly?" sighed Itachi. "It's her meal—if you want something, pay for it yourself."

"But I'm broke!" said Shisui. "I met a girl—"

"Who made you squander all your money and then left you once you ran out," finished Itachi bleakly.

"You're a genius," said Shisui sarcastically.

"So I'm told."

Itachi and Shisui got along well. Quite well. And Miho could not help but feel like she was intruding on their conversation, no matter how much Itachi tried to include her in.

"Here," she said, handing her barely-touched meal to Shisui. "You can have it—I'm not hungry. I'm going to head home—crash for a few hours and get all that medical stuff out of my head—"

"Are you sure?" said Itachi, concern lining his face. "You hardly ate anything—"

"I'm fine, Uchiha."

"Uchiha?" repeated Shisui, who had already bitten into a large chunk of beef. "You call him by his surname? Well, that's silly—we're both Uchiha—you might as well call him Itachi if you're so close."

"Who said we're close?" said Miho with an arched eyebrow.

"You're eating lunch together," said Shisui as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What else does it mean?"

"…That we like eating lunch together," said Miho, picking up her bag and moving out of the booth.

"No, it obviously means that you like each other," the older Uchiha said. "You dating?"

"Hardly," said Itachi. "Shisui, drop it."

"It's your fault she doesn't call you by your first name," frowned Shisui. "Calling her 'Chiaki-san' is so stiff, Itachi. Miho is a nice name."

"I'll see you around, Uchiha," said Miho, heading for the exit.

She could hear Shisui's voice as walked through the aisles.

"See! I didn't know which Uchiha you were talking to!"

She rolled her eyes and left the restaurant, joining the bustling streets of Konoha during lunch hour. Miho stretched her aching limbs and looked around, thinking. Exam results wouldn't be out until the next day, and she had no idea when her father was returning. Was Itachi going to ask her over for dinner again today? Or was she going to eat by herself? Eating alone was rather lonely now, especially after eating with Itachi so constantly…

She'd forgotten that Itachi was popular—had other friends. No wonder it was weird eating with Shisui—he and Itachi had so swiftly engaged in conversation that it felt rude to intrude.

Not rude.

Wrong.

Was it because they had been talking about the clan? Something that Miho was not part of? The Uchiha clan was like a socialite club—only Uchiha members could understand each other…did that mean that she would never be able to approach Itachi in that same terribly comfortable manner?

Miho let out a tired breath and headed for the market. She'd grown to rely on Itachi's company a bit too much…

She'd eat dinner alone tonight.

* * *

"Itachi," said Shisui through a mouthful of beef.

Itachi heaved a sigh, turning his eyes from Miho's retreating figure back to his rude best friend.

"What?" he said, expressionless.

"You're a good looking guy. Ten out of ten. Or maybe a nine, because I'm a ten," added Shisui thoughtfully.

"Hardly. What's your point?"

"That girl…Miho," said Shisui thoughtfully, "she's a six at best."

"I don't particularly care for looks."

"Well, yeah, but she's not an Uchiha, and I thought that if you weren't going to go for an Uchiha lady, your foreign girl would be hot. She's okay, I guess, but not much."

"She's interesting," said Itachi, sipping his tea.

"The appeal of 'interesting' wears off after a while," said Shisui sagaciously. "Get married to a girl like her—"

"Shisui, I'm fourteen. Marriage is hardly in the picture."

"Well, it's certainly not out of the question," said Shisui with uncustomary graveness. "Suppose you do. Nothing good will come out of it. She's not an Uchiha."

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you," said Itachi wearily. "You are hardly one to talk, Shisui—with your history of women, I highly doubt you'd understand anything. Besides, we're friends right now—nothing more, nothing less."

"Not a nice girl," said Shisui.

"You're eating her lunch," said Itachi coolly.

"Oh, yeah. Well, she's just…socially awkward?"

"Not really. Perhaps just to you, because you're obnoxious."

"You said she was too."

"Similarities repel."

"And opposites attract, eh?" said Shisui, smirking. "I get it now."

"There's nothing to get, Shisui. Shut up and finish eating. You eat like a pig."

"Fine, fine," said Shisui, yielding. "Just remember the rules, Itachi. The Uchiha come first. And you really shouldn't marry outside of the clan—you're so strong, it'd be best to preserve your genetics purely."

Shisui yawned, shoving his empty plate aside and standing up.

"Man, that waitress never gave me my sake," he muttered. "Oh well. I gotta go, Itachi. Make sure you're not late for the clan meeting tonight. And for once, stay the entire time, would you? The information is important."

Itachi narrowed his eyes. Clan, clan, clan.

So tiring.

* * *

"Hi," said Itachi to Miho the next day as she stared up the wall of the Medical Academy. "See your number?"

"Can't find it," she said, squinting in the sun. "How was lunch yesterday?"

"Sorry about that," he said apologetically. "Shisui can be an ass."

"I didn't think so," she lied.

"Please. It's not in your nature to be nice, Chiaki-san."

"Fine. He was a bit on the obstinate side. Find my number for me—I can't see up that far."

"And your number would be?"

"Twenty thirty-two."

Itachi fell quiet as he activated his Sharingan, scanning the long list of numbers of passes and failures.

"Strange," he said. "It's not there."

"What?!"

"Are you sure that's your number? Twenty thirty-three and twenty thirty-one are both there—"

"They sat right beside me! And half their answers were wrong!" said Miho irritably, stalking off.

"Where are you going?" said Itachi, following her pace brilliantly.

"To talk to the proctor—if she failed me just because I was being rude—"

"You know, being polite does wonders in winning people over," said Itachi dryly.

"—I know for a fact that I got above a ninety, Uchiha," said Miho coldly. "Being polite didn't get me that."

She strode quickly over to the small office on the side of the Academy and opened the door, her gray eyes glaring at the inhabitants of the room. Right at the front desk was the old nurse.

"Why is my number not up on the wall?" Miho demanded. "I know I passed."

"You did," said the proctor hesitantly, "and we put it up this morning, but…"

"But you're certainly not going to be a Healer, Miho," said a grave voice from the side of the room.

Miho turned to its source, her eyes landing on Hiroki, who stared at her sternly.

"Otou-san," she said icily. "I should've known."

"Itachi-kun," said Hiroki, "I thought I made it very clear that I wanted Miho to have nothing with the Healing Arts—"

"That was her choice, not mine," replied Itachi. "I personally think it's a good thing for her to be entering a field she has a passion for."

"And that could kill her in the process," said Hiroki indignantly.

"Oh, and going on ANBU missions with a fourteen year old platoon leader can't?" said Miho frostily.

"Itachi-kun is more than an excellent leader—"

"That's besides the point," said Miho angrily. "For years, you've been trying to make me lean on the offensive side—it's difficult and tedious for me—I'm not like Uchiha, with his brilliant mind and natural feel for fighting—"

"You sound so bitter," said Itachi under his breath.

"I'm not," she snapped. "I just know that I _can_ excel as a Medic—"

"Her score lies at the very top of the charts, Chiaki-sensei," said the proctor. "I strongly encourage her entrance in the Academy."

"No," said Hiroki firmly. "She is to remain in ANBU—"

"I handed in my resignation yesterday," said Miho.

"I'll have that repealed. This isn't exactly the news I wanted to receive the moment I returned from a month-long mission, Miho. Until you actually clear your head and reset your priorities, there will be no room for you under my house," said Hiroki coldly. "You'd best drop this ridiculous idea of yours."

Hiroki, obviously exhausted, brushed past her as he exited the room. Miho glared at him in cold defiance as their gazes met, but only spoke once he was out of earshot.

"Put my name back on the wall," she said to the nurse. "When does training start?"

The nurse looked at her doubtfully.

"Chiaki-san, I don't know if your father—"

"I don't care," Miho interrupted. "When does training start?"

"In a week," said the nurse, still looking dubious. "But surely—"

"Thanks," said Miho, leaving the room without another word.

She was furious. Like Hiroki could kick her out of her own house—he hadn't even been home for the last month, and he thought he could just dictate who stayed and who left?! Well, that was fine—she'd find somewhere else to stay—hell, it'd be better if she just left altogether…and why couldn't he just see her point?! See that she was just ten times better as a medic than as an ANBU member—learning all the material necessary to complete the exam had almost been _easy_, so much simpler than training those long hours to enter ANBU.

"Chiaki-san," said Itachi's voice, almost faraway.

She ignored him, the blood rushing past her ears, her eyes stinging painfully. Itachi sighed and caught her by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Calm down," he said. "He'll cool down after a while as well—perhaps if you talked to him about it—"

"He's not going to care, Uchiha," she said bitingly.

"Hiroki-sensei is very sensible," said Itachi soothingly. "You just need to—"

He stopped as he got a better look of Miho's face. She covered her eyes hastily, suddenly aware of the liquid representations of hurt and anger that trailed down her cheeks. Brushing them away quickly, Miho turned away from Itachi and looked determinedly at a fixed point in the far distance. Itachi, thankfully, didn't comment on her sudden emotionality.

"I assure you that Hiroki-sensei wants what he thinks is the best for you," said Itachi gently. "And I know—quite certainly—that you are doing what you can to achieve his recognition, especially in a field you know you can excel in. I'm personally inclined to think that you're right in this situation, though how you approach it may not necessarily be so. It might be best if you simply talk it—politely—out with him, Chiaki-san. Like I said before, politeness and respect do wonders in winning others over."

"Oh, shut up with your philosophies, Uchiha," she muttered.

He chuckled softly.

"In the meantime, seeing as the trait of stubbornness runs in your family, you might need a place to stay. My—"

"No," said Miho curtly. "I can just stay at an inn."

"That's a bit silly, seeing as you live in Konoha—"

"It's better than imposing on your family. Now that your father's back, it would be even more awkward if I stayed over at your house—besides, I'm not an Uchiha. You still have clandestine meetings and whatnot that I'm not supposed to be near—it'd be better if I stayed somewhere else."

Itachi sighed.

"True," he said. "It would probably be more prudent if you didn't stay in the Uchiha compound…those meetings are going to increase tenfold now that my father's returned…"

There was a hint of bitterness in Itachi's voice as his sentence trailed off. A hard look appeared in his brilliant dark eyes, and, coupled with the shadow that now crossed his face, he seemed like a completely different person altogether.

"…Uchiha?" said Miho uncertainly.

Itachi blinked, every trace of unfamiliarity disappearing as his recognizable gentle nature returned.

"Sorry," he said with a slight smile. "Well then, shall I escort you to the nearest hotel?"

Miho nodded mutely, a bit concerned. And as they began to walk, side by side, in punctuated silence, she did not bring up her problems with Hiroki any further.

It seemed that she was not the only one with parental issues.

* * *

"Itachi," said Fugaku the moment he entered the front doorstep.

"Shit," muttered Itachi under his breath, bracing himself for a harangue.

"What was that?" said Fugaku sternly.

"Nothing," he answered, running a hand through his hair. "Good to see you back, Otou-san…"

"Your mother's been telling me that you been around Hiroki's daughter quite a bit as of late," said Fugaku, beckoning for Itachi to sit across from him at the table.

Itachi shot Mikoto a glare; she returned with a guilty smile, mouthing "Sorry."

"I was just…concerned for her," said Itachi slowly, choosing his words carefully. "She was alone, and Hiroki-sensei asked me to look after her."

"That's fine," said Fugaku.

Itachi blinked.

"What?"

"I said, 'that's fine,'" he answered. "I am not…wholly against your having a potential relationship with the Chiaki girl."

There was obviously something very off.

"Clan rules inherently dictate that the strongest Uchiha intermarry," said Itachi. "Why the…exception? Is it me…or her?"

"Do you like her?" said Fugaku.

Itachi gave a small inclination of his head.

"Then what's the issue?" said Fugaku.

"What are you hiding?" said Itachi coolly.

"What makes you think we're hiding something, Itachi? This is good for you—you like a girl who happens to be outside of the Uchiha bloodline; you should be thankful that such an exception can be made."

"What's going on?"

"That, I won't explain for quite a while," said Fugaku strictly. "I'm just letting you know. Now, there's another meeting tonight—be sure to be there."

"Can I go?" said an excited voice from the doorway.

Sasuke, covered in dirt and leaves, jogged up to them eagerly, trailing mud all over the floor.

"Sasuke!" said Mikoto exasperatedly. "I just cleaned!"

"Oops, sorry, Okaa-san," said Sasuke guiltily. "So, can I go to the meeting too, Otou-san? I promise I'll be good—"

"You're too young, Sasuke," said Itachi swiftly.

"But Nii-san!"

"Your brother's right," said Fugaku. "You're still too young."

"Nii-san was attending meetings when he was my age," Sasuke pouted.

"That was in a different time," said Itachi distractedly. "It's peaceful now."

Fugaku's eyes narrowed. "…So it is."

Itachi met Fugaku's gaze unwaveringly. Something was amiss. Something was…quite wrong.

"Itachi," said Mikoto slyly, breaking the tension, "if you're going to ask dear Miho-chan out—"

"WHAT?!" said Sasuke loudly. "THAT RUDE GIRL?!"

"Sasuke," said Mikoto reproachfully, "you are not much better. She is a delightful young lady—it would be good, Itachi, if you asked her out immediately. You know…" Mikoto winked, "before someone else does?"

Itachi snorted. No one in their right mind would ask Miho out…oh, wait, that meant he wasn't quite in his right mind then.

All the same…something seemed rather…forced about the entire situation. Fugaku was encouraging him to engage in a relationship? Unlikely…unless there was an ulterior motive.

"This motive of yours," said Itachi darkly, "is it going to…hurt anyone?"

"…Of course not," said Fugaku after a pause. "Chiaki Miho will be just fine."

Without waiting for Itachi's reply, Fugaku swept out of the room. Itachi sat there silently, in the midst of his now anxious-looking mother and oblivious brother.

Something was wrong.

He had asked about "anyone." Not just about Miho.

* * *

"Are you sleeping?" said a voice from the windowpane.

Miho's eyes opened in alarm, her hand instinctively reaching out for the kunai stashed under her pillow before she relaxed upon recognizing the chakra. And the voice.

Itachi.

"Why are you here so late?" she said, sitting up as Itachi's familiar silhouette slipped into the room.

"Clan meeting just ended," was his stoic reply as he shut the window with a clack. "I was asked to check up on you."

"By?"

"My mother."

Miho scoffed. "Mikoto-san worries too much."

"Not enough, I would think," he answered. The bed tilted slightly to the left as he sat down. "Had I been an enemy, you would've been dead."

"No one would try to kill me, Uchiha."

"The last member of the Saruji clan and sole heir of the Ishachi? You have plenty of reason to be killed."

"That's quite comforting," she said dryly. "If you're going to stay here tonight, you'd better pay half of the hotel fee—it's rather expensive."

"Are you offering me a place to stay?" he said, his tone amused.

"Hardly—that was an indirect way to ask you to leave, considering that it would be extremely pointless to have you stay in a hotel when your parents are more than willing to have you under their roof."

"I doubt that," he scoffed. "Something at home is…amiss."

"…What's wrong?" she said quietly.

"I don't know," he answered, his voice now frustrated. "Or rather—maybe I do. I just don't want to think about it. Nothing's happened…but I feel like it'll all precipitate very soon."

Miho didn't answer, not willing to say that Itachi was not making much sense at all. His darker voice, however, was enough to prevent her from prodding any further. A silence settled uncomfortably around them as Miho stared impassively in the dark at Itachi's figure; now that her eyes were growing used to the night, she could discern the unnatural gleam in his eyes, his lips curled almost into a grimace.

"They want us to engage in a…relationship," he said suddenly.

She stared in surprise.

"…Sorry?" said Miho.

"Us. You and I. Dating," he said.

"…Your parents want us to?" she said, stunned.

"Apparently."

"…I'm not an Uchiha," she said blankly.

"As I remarked," he replied. "Evidently, it's not an issue, for some reason. My father was still…encouraging, which is completely ridiculous—he is never encouraging about anything outside of mission work."

"…Why?"

"I have no idea."

Itachi heaved a sigh and shifted his weight on the bed, causing an eerie creak to snap through the air.

"Sorry," he said. "You have enough on your plate—there's no point in me piling more of my clan's ridiculousness on…"

"It's fine," she said. "It's quite…fine."

Oh, goodness. What was she saying?

Itachi laughed weakly.

"So…" he said conversationally, "do you want to?"

"…Sorry?"

"Engage in a relationship?" he said, a trace of mockery now in his low voice. "Would you, Chiaki Miho, like to go out with me, Uchiha Itachi? I promise to make you extremely happy and—"

"What are you doing?!" said Miho, aghast. "Are you proposing?! Stop it!"

"I wasn't proposing," he laughed, "though your response is not especially encouraging to anyone asking you such a question, Chiaki-san. Or, in an attempt to make this already awkward conversation even more awkward, shall I call you Miho?"

Miho shuddered.

"Stop it. That's too much at once," she grimaced. "Am I just supposed to answer?"

"I would think so."

"Fine, let's," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You seem most…unsatisfied."

"Because that was most unsettling."

"So we are now in a relationship."

"I suppose so," she said blandly.

"Hm. That was much less nerve-wracking than novels make confessions out to be," he commented.

"And you read such novels, Uchiha?"

"In my spare time," he said, flashing a grin. "So, _Miho_, would you mind…coming over tomorrow?"

Miho looked at him seriously.

"You think you'll be able to find something out of I'm there?" she queried.

"…Perhaps," he said, his grin fading. "Rather…I just want to observe my father…but don't let it bother you. You have other things to contemplate."

"Uchiha…" she said quietly, "what is going on with your clan?"

There was a stiff silence, layered on with that eerie darkness that Itachi had tried so hard to veil for a few minutes. It had resurfaced, still uncomfortable, still malicious.

Miho's hand unconsciously reached and settled in Itachi's. First step in Engaging in a Relationship.

She didn't need to hear his reply to know it, but he voiced it aloud regardless, more to himself, it seemed, than to her.

"I don't know, Chiaki-san."

His rough hand squeezed hers tightly as his Sharingan suddenly activated, almost as if in an uncanny symbol of foreboding.

Something was wrong with the Uchiha.

* * *

**Free Talk:**

Yes, I'm surprised I managed to get this out at all. Yes, I feel rather guilty writing it because I'm supposed to be studying. =.=;; Um, but I guess that's a good thing for the readers? Haha, well, thank you for all your reviews last chapter--this fic has gotten amazing reception, especially considering that there are only a few chapters out. I do hope that nobody's personality was completely unreadable here--I wasn't very sure how to depict Shisui, but I just made sure to keep the only known element of devotion to his clan in his personality. Everything else, I made up. If anyone does know exactly how Shisui was though, do let me know. If not, I'll keep him the way he is. :)

I will discuss more about this chapter on my LJ...sometime...later. :) For now, I hope you enjoyed! And please review~ I can't promise a chapter any time soon, but...I may consider it if there is enough persuasion. =)

xoxo,

m.n


	8. Selfish Selves

**Chapter 8: Selfish Selves**

**

* * *

**

_"It is one's own personal, selfish happiness that one seeks, earns, and derives from love." -Ayn Rand

* * *

_

Dinner at the Uchiha compound the day after Itachi had asked Miho out never happened. In fact, they hardly saw each other at all for the next two weeks. Itachi had been called out on a mission, one that consisted of an all-Uchiha platoon, and he had been appointed the leader. It seemed that the mission was an important one, seeing as Miho knew nothing of the details. She did not mind—missions were more vital than a silly, awkward relationship—and she herself had better things to keep her mind on.

Like her training at the hospital.

It was more tedious than anything, but Miho found that she was actually enjoying herself most of the time. She was not the most terribly social person, so she lingered in the back of the ICU where the patients were too incarcerated by pain to carry on a conversation.

Now, Miho was not an atrociously arrogant person, but she wasn't downright humble either.

And in situations where she was the leading diagnostician competing against people twice her age, Miho could not help but have her internal ego soar. Her uncontained smugness earned her no little reprimands, but Miho, never one to care about the thoughts of others, did not stop her uncontested diagnosis frenzy. In fact, she had so much fun—or perhaps being at the hospital was just so distracting from the unwelcome thoughts that clouded her mind when she was alone—that she was at the hospital almost all the time, only leaving it to go to her hotel room and sleep for a few hours, or eat a quick meal.

She walked out of the hospital late in the afternoon, tired but pleased with the day's work, and shouldered her bag as she headed back to her hotel. It was in moments like these where Miho could not help but miss Itachi a bit, especially when she thought back to the times where Itachi would be waiting for her outside the hospital and walk her aimlessly to lunch or home.

Eating alone was, well, rather lonely. Miho did not dare return home, though she saw her father occasionally on the streets (she ducked immediately out of the way when such a meeting occurred, feeling very foolish all the while), and her thoughts during her meals often drifted back to the intelligent and often ridiculous banter that she rather missed. And sometimes, she wondered how he was doing—it wasn't an obsessive series of thoughts, but instead the inquisitive, polite thought of a mere…friend, yes, that was it. She was certainly not obsessing. Was he eating healthily? Hopefully he wasn't just eating food pills—those were so bad for the human body over long extended time periods, and knowing Itachi, he would just down them for facilitation purposes…perhaps when he returned, she would cook him a decent meal. Soup, she supposed, was a good menu.

Miho strolled easily out into the edges of the main streets as the sun began to set in the sky, the glowing orb painting its surroundings an array of pastel pinks, purples, and royal blue. It had been quite a long day, and she was tired and equally hungry. Suppressing a yawn, she was just about to step on the streets, joining the masses, when someone caught her roughly by the shoulder and pulled her back. She retaliated immediately, her grey eyes flashing with alarm as her hand reached to the kunai stashed away in her belt. Her assailant pushed her arm to her side before she could even twist around all the way, pulling her backwards against his chest as his hand snaked to her throat quickly, his hand holding a glistening kunai at her neck.

Miho's breathing grew uneven, but she forced to keep her head, concentrating on sensing the well-concealed chakra of the person who currently held her life in the palm of his hand.

She felt her heartbeat decelerate instantly once she recognized the chakra; the hand around her throat relaxed seconds after her back muscles loosened up. She could hear a soft scoff behind her and she rolled her eyes, closing them momentarily as Itachi's hands slipped to her shoulders and rubbed them in a therapeutic manner.

"You should actually greet me right, Uchiha," she said wryly, her body relaxing at his firm touch.

"You're ridiculously tense, Chiaki-san," he remarked. "I thought you needed some excitement. Just because you're in a hospital all day doesn't mean you can neglect exercise, you know."

"Don't lecture me, Uchiha," Miho replied, turning around. "You—" She stopped her sentence as she saw his face. "What the hell happened to your face?"

Itachi's attractive face was marred by a long gash from the side of his forehead to his ear; it was still bleeding slightly, though most of the blood was caked over his skin. He seemed to be sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek; when he grinned at her, it twisted his skin in a way that made Miho cringe.

"Bit of a skirmish," said Itachi vaguely.

"Are you crazy?" said a stunned Miho, immediately taking him by the arm and dragging him back in the direction she came from—to the hospital. "Why didn't you get treated the moment you returned!"

"I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I do _not_ need you to act like the perfect boyfriend!" Miho snapped. "I've long told you that I no longer see you as perfect—there is absolutely no way to keep up that façade!"

"I wasn't," protested Itachi.

"Take care of yourself—it would make me feel a lot better if you actually didn't care about me because I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself—common sense, Uchiha! Who comes into Konoha with a bleeding head without going to the hospital? You're an idiot!"

"Nice as it is to see you caring, Chiaki-san, your insults are really off-putting," said Itachi dryly. "I'm _fine_, can't we just skip the hospital? You can treat me, can't you?"

Miho glared at him, but when she noticed how reluctant he seemed to enter the hospital, she nodded curtly and gestured for them to sit down on a bench that stood a few feet behind a vendor. Itachi looked relieved, sitting down on it as Miho kneeled in front of him, her fingers examining his wounds.

"Whoever punched you had quite a punch…I suppose I can't ask where you all went, right?" she said lightly, prodding his bruise and causing him to wince.

"No, you can't," he answered. "You can, however, ask…intelligent questions that you believe I'll be able to answer truthfully."

Miho remained silent for a few seconds, her hands dancing over his skin before a light green sheen appeared around her palm. She pressed it to Itachi's cut, focusing on the skin resealing.

"Was this a political mission?" she asked.

"…Yes," he replied, his dark eyes closing as he yielded to the warmth of her chakra.

"Was Shisui-san with you?"

"…Yes."

"…Was it a dangerous mission?" The gash had sealed, and though the skin was still a bit raw, Miho moved down to the bruise on his cheek. She had not taken into consideration how incredibly tired she was from the day's worth of work; her chakra was actually rather depleted, and she could feel the beginning edges of fatigue to creep into her system.

"No, it wasn't too bad. Important, but not terribly dangerous," he answered soothingly. "Chiaki-san, don't worry about the bruise—it'll heal in due time. You look rather exhausted."

"I'm tired," she admitted, her eyes blinking wearily, "but I have enough chakra to heal this."

Itachi clamped his gloved hand over hers, pushing it away. The green aura surrounding her palm disappeared, negated by Itachi's, and the Uchiha stood up, his eyes concernedly looking at her.

"You should go sleep—I was afraid you were overworking yourself," he said. "I'll escort you back."

"I'm fine," she groaned, standing up. Her head spun dizzily and she wobbled forward, straight into his hold.

"Mm-hm," he said, his voice equally tired. "You can't even stand straight."

"You can't either," she retorted jadedly, her eyes closing as she felt him pick her up. She didn't even have enough energy to protest the feminine treatment. In fact, she didn't have enough energy to stay awake for the trip home at all.

She could only remember a steadily beating heart against her ear, soothing and calming, as she drifted off to dreamless slumber for the first time in a while.

* * *

Itachi woke up to the scents of steamed pork, lettuce, and…ah, of course. Miho had a strange potato fetish. The girl could live off of potatoes alone and be perfectly content with it. Exactly what she saw in such a bland staple was beyond Itachi, but he privately noted that if he ever was to appease to her good side, all he'd have to do was give her a sack of potatoes and a pot of seasoned water for soup.

On second thought, perhaps she'd just hit him across the head with the potatoes and the pot for being inconsiderate.

Girls were so confusing. Anything could happen.

"Why are you smiling?" said Miho's voice dryly. "If you're awake, help me cook. If not, well…keep on sleeping, I suppose."

"You'd be fine with me continuing to sleep?" he said, opening his eyes and sitting up. He had been on the bed, a few blankets covering him. His shoes were kicked off beside the bed and his ANBU vest was draped over a nearby couch. Miho, freshly washed and dressed in a loose plain shirt with baggy pants, was at the small oven in the corner of her room, stirring, believe it or not, a pot of soup.

"I can be understanding sometimes," said Miho, dumping some salt in her banal concoction. "You seemed even more tired than I was—you know it's midnight already? You slept for six hours…"

"Oh, shit," he muttered, glancing at the open window. A breeze of musty night air wafted in the room, bringing with it the stagnant scents of a relatively later hour. "My father's going to kill me…there was a meeting…"

"I sent them a crow to tell them that you were dead on your feet, and that you needed the rest. Don't worry about it," said Miho calmly. "I also said that you were staying the night."

Itachi looked up at her, alarmed.

"And they didn't care?"

"Apparently not," she responded serenely. "I'm starting to think that there's something they're expecting from our relationship—it's not normal to let a prized son stay over at a non-relative's place for the night, mm? Am I missing something, Uchiha?"

"Nothing that I know about," he answered, standing up and walking over to her. "If I find out anything, I'll let you know…"

"That'd be nice," she said, ladling the soup into two separate bowls.

"Meanwhile, how's life at the hospital?" he questioned. "You seem to be a bit too eager to work—you're going to end up hurting yourself."

"I'm fine. It's somewhat fun—and it's nice being number one at something for once in my life."

Itachi looked at her apologetically, causing Miho to scoff as she brought the bowls over to a table.

"It's not like you can help being a genius," she said wryly.

"True," he admitted without a trace of arrogance. "But just because you're number one for once, Chiaki-san, doesn't mean that you should work nonstop. Your Ishachi—"

"I haven't needed to use it," she interrupted, her grey eyes flickering to meet his. "Stop mothering me, Uchiha. There's no need for you to lecture me when you won't even bring yourself to the hospital."

"I knew you would heal me without all the unnecessary formalities that the hospital forces patients to undergo."

"I suppose so," she sighed, drawing up a chair and sitting down in it.

"…Have you…made up with Hiroki-sensei?" said Itachi cautiously.

Miho's dull silver eyes flickered up to meet his briefly before returning to her stew.

"No," she said mildly. "Obviously not, seeing as I'm still living in the hotel."

"…Have you even tried?" said Itachi sternly.

"No," was the adamant answer.

Itachi let out a breath, sitting down across from her and staring at her levelly.

"I know Hiroki-sensei well," he said slowly. "I'm quite sure that he has a…reason for not letting you enter the medicinal field—and even though I encourage your being there, I also think it would be a good thing if you perhaps understood his reason behind why he strictly opposes your change in interest…"

Itachi's voice trailed off at the sight of the unparalleled glare that Miho was giving him. Weakly, he added,

"…Or…not?"

"You're like my mother," said Miho wryly. "I've lived without one for over ten years, Uchiha—there's no need for me to have one now."

Itachi frowned.

"Nor is there any need to degrade me with petty insults and call me feminine, Chiaki-san."

"I didn't call you feminine—I just meant you nag too much."

"In other words, feminine."

"What kind of misconception is that?"

"Women nag," said Itachi indolently. "They complain and they argue too."

He could see Miho's eyes narrow into slits, and groaned inwardly. He really should learn to watch his mouth—that was a bad move…

"So do men," said Miho through pursed lips. She then simply lapsed into silence.

Itachi looked at her in surprise. Surely there was more? A longer harangue, an endless tirade?

"…Er…" he said awkwardly, trying to think of another topic.

Miho didn't encourage him, her eyes focused sternly on the bowl in front of him. This cold shoulder seemed much worse than an immediate diatribe; he could feel his muscles stiffen instinctively as the quiet atmosphere stretched on menacingly, like the calm before the storm.

"Er…sorry? I didn't mean it," he said halfheartedly.

"You're terrible at being sincere."

"I didn't mean for it to come out that way," he rephrased. "I realize that men nag as well."

"A wonderful example which is yourself."

"Chiaki-san, seriously…let's not bicker. It's exhausting."

"Yes, it is. You can sleep on the floor tonight."

"What? I'm tired, Chiaki-san. At least let me sleep on the mattress as well—you know I won't try anything stupid."

Miho raised her eyebrows, looking skeptical. "I thought you said you didn't want to bicker, Uchiha."

"But—"

"The end."

Itachi stifled another groan. This relationship was really growing to be more trouble than it was worth…

* * *

Trust was a funny thing. Exactly why he trusted Miho so much was beyond him. She obviously had ill intentions towards him sometimes. Most of the time. She also made him sleep on the floor after an extremely long and tiring mission. And always made him potato soup. Absolutely no variety when it came to the culinary arts, which made her a terrible "wife-like" figure. Overall, she was quite the awful person.

Itachi was normally a light sleeper, ready for any sort of attack on him, but he slept deeply and dreamlessly in her room, uncomfortable though the floor was. So deeply that he did not feel Miho somehow manage to move him onto the bed in the middle of his slumber. So deeply that he did not notice her healing the bruise on his face.

He simply woke up near noon, surprised to find himself on the bed, filled with a sense of contentment and well-being. After sleeping in the forest for days on end, a mattress was wonderfully comfortable, and the feeling of having his muscles actually relaxed was incredibly refreshing.

Itachi yawned and stretched, rotating his lean arms in a circular pattern. Miho's chakra was nowhere nearby—he could only hope that she had not gone out to buy more ingredients for lunch. He was getting tired of potato soup.

The window was propped open slightly, enough for a welcome light breeze to waft into the hotel room, accompanied by rich rays of golden sunshine. He walked over to the window and opened it wider, looking down on the lively streets of Konoha, his dark eyes darting over the scenes, absorbing any anomalies.

There were none.

Again, an incredible sense of contentment. Peace was such a beautiful state of the mind and of the government. Itachi could not help but smile slightly at the tranquil sights of a farmer selling his crops to a small child with a large grin on his face, or of the elderly couple tittering at the edges of the roads, hand-in-hand. His brilliant Uchiha mind spared a nanosecond on the possibility of his own peaceful retirement decades from now, but he didn't dwell on it. Futile hopes were, well, futile.

"You're up," said Miho's dry voice from behind.

Itachi turned around, nodding a bit in acknowledgement of her presence. He unwillingly noted the multiple grocery bags in her hands.

"You're getting better at concealing your chakra now," he remarked. "I could hardly sense you."

"You're tired," she replied, setting down the bags on the table. "I'd attribute your oversight to your weary state rather than my progress."

"Perhaps," he admitted. "Thank you for healing me."

"And for moving you on the bed," she reminded with a demure smile. "I couldn't help but feel bad for you an hour into the night."

"Good to know that you have some sense of humaneness in you…"

Miho scoffed and began emptying the bags' contents on the table. Itachi caught one sight of a brown, dented potato and stepped hastily forward.

"How about we go out to eat?" he said quickly, placing the potato back in the paper bag.

Miho looked at him, perplexed. "But that costs money, and I'm paid very little as a resident, and all my money goes to the hotel fee—"

"My treat," he said reassuringly. "Or would you rather drop by the Uchiha compound? I'm sure my mother is worrying greatly for you."

"I bumped into her at the market," said Miho. "She was a bit concerned for your health, seeing as you were still sleeping. Your father, on the other hand, was not very happy that you'd missed the meeting."

Itachi blew out a breath, slightly irritated.

"We should probably go to my house then," he sighed. "I don't want my father to be angry with me the night after a long mission—who knows how long his aggravation will last."

Miho nodded. "Well, don't let me stop you. Tell me what happens."

"Are you serious? You're coming with me, Chiaki-san. Your presence will most likely offset any negative things they have to say about me."

"Uchiha, it's highly unlikely that anyone will ever have anything _negative_ to say about you. Even your parents."

"You'd be surprised," muttered Itachi under his breath. "Change into something…neater, please, Chiaki-san. Just think of this as doing a favor for me."

"The first and the last," she said with a look of annoyed assent as she strode over to the bathroom. "Meet you in the lobby in five."

* * *

Dinner, lunch, breakfast, whatever meal they were having at the Uchiha, it was awkward because Fugaku did not seem happy. He wasn't downright rude or unpleasant, but he continuously shot furtive glares at Itachi, as if he were silently willing his son to produce a feasible reason as to why he had missed the meeting before. Miho gave a tired little sigh into her bowl of rice that was decorated with a motley collection of vegetables—Mikoto was quite the cook—and looked at Itachi as well. The Uchiha prodigy looked completely unperturbed with his father's behavior, but Miho could sense his disrupted chakra easily.

"So, Miho," said Mikoto in an attempt to break the silence, "I hear you've been working at the hospital? How is it?"

"It's nice," said Miho with a brief smile. "It's a bit fun…and rather fascinating. I seem to have a natural feel for medicine and the healing arts…"

"Well of course," said Fugaku gruffly. "It's in your blood. You should be second to none in that field. And only second to Itachi when it comes to the rest. Which reminds me—your father and I would like you—"

"My father and I are currently not speaking," said Miho sharply. "I couldn't care less what he would like me to do."

There was a stunned silence at Miho's incredible outburst. She was hardly embarrassed. The atmosphere that Fugaku was emanating was annoying and ridiculous, as if he were _blaming_ her and Itachi for letting Itachi sleep for a night. It had been just one meeting!

"…So your father and you are not speaking," reiterated Fugaku.

"No. We are not."

"Then we will have to rectify that. I'll call Hiroki to talk to you—while you two are conversing, Itachi, come with me. We have to talk about last night's meeting."

"I will speak to my father when I want to," said Miho coolly. "As much as I respect the Uchiha—I find it unnecessary for them to mettle with _me_—a non-Uchiha—and my…parental affairs. I—"

"I think you're misunderstanding," said Fugaku sternly. "Regardless of your blood, you are as much of an Uchiha as Itachi is."

"…What?" she said, stunned.

"Your father is an honorary Uchiha member. In other words, even without the Uchiha, he's been accepted into the clan. You, by default, are therefore an Uchiha member as well."

"What the—"

"You have no choice, Chiaki Miho. Your future is set."

* * *

"Otou-san, just what is going on?" said Miho furiously the moment Hiroki came to the house and pulled her away. "You're an honorary _Uchiha_? _I am_ too? What the hell?"

"Miho," said Hiroki in a tone that burned with a sternness that bordered threat, "you will not speak until we get out of the vicinity of this neighborhood."

Miho wisely fell silent. She knew how to hold her tongue—though she rarely utilized the skill—and she knew how to read a mood. And Hiroki's mood was easy enough to read—he was equally furious. Though whether it was with her or with someone else, Miho couldn't be sure. She bit down on her lower lip nervously, unaccustomed to this degree of Hiroki's parental intimidation, and followed him obediently out of the compound and onto the crowded main streets to the nearest café, where they quickly sat down in a booth situated in a secluded corner of the room. A waitress came over to take their orders, but Hiroki simply impatiently ordered two teas and waved her away. The highly affronted server shot a glare at him and left with a huff, but Hiroki didn't care.

His gaze met Miho's inquisitive one, and they locked in a staring match for a few minutes. Miho didn't know what to say, so she remained quiet and used her peripheral vision to study her father's countenance. There were multiple wrinkles that she had not spotted before; silver hairs were streaked sporadically among masses of black strands, causing an uncustomary feeling of guilt to crawl inside Miho. She could not deny that her father was growing a tiny bit older.

"You've been doing well in the hospital, I suppose?" said Hiroki finally.

Miho nodded uncertainly.

"Yes…I…"

The expectant look that he was giving her—one that she so commonly faced when she'd completed a test or examination and had gotten the results—filled her with the desperate need to brag, to say that she was _finally_ number one, _finally_ in a field that she was so good at, so _natural_, on a level of prodigy that Itachi constantly exhibited. Internally, somehow, she needed to hear Hiroki's words of praise, needed to see his proud expression; in such hopes, Miho's reserved expression cracked, and the fast, boasting words of a measly fourteen year old child began to tumble out of her mouth without stopping.

"I'm number one, Otou-san. And it's…it's incredible, I _like_ being there, working and…and just feeling the amount of things I can accomplish, the successes I can generate. And it doesn't just come down to saving lives—it's terrible but I feel so…so _satisfied_ when something works out that couldn't have worked out without me, like I'm actually needed there when I wasn't in ANBU, and…"

Her voice trailed off when she noticed Hiroki's expression—one of pain and sorrow and desperation. It was an expression she'd never seen before—worn by _anyone_—and the grief it represented made her sentence stop dead. This wasn't the expression she'd wanted—she'd wanted one of pride, a mere statement of "I'm proud of you" or "I'm glad you're my daughter"—it was a desire so childish that she knew she would cringe in retrospect for having it at all. Miho could feel a sting of hurt and mortification run through her, jabbing at her chest, jeering at her for her risen hopes.

She looked away, her gray eyes growing watery at the unwanted response from her father.

"Never mind," she said quietly, her voice cracking in a terribly unsteady manner. "Forget it—I know you don't care."

"No, Miho, I do," said Hiroki gently. "I…I have not been very good expressing my reasons behind my adamant refusal for you to enter the medical field. You know one, and perhaps it is a weak one, but it is because of Aki, your mother. And the other reason…"

He gave a sigh, setting his elbows on the table and resting his head between his hands, his fingers rubbing his temples in a methodical, therapeutic motion.

"I have always respected the Uchiha—more so than any other clan residing here in Konoha. Ever since I was young, I was fascinated with the degree of power and influence they had—did you know, Miho, that they hold an undeniably essential place in the founding of Konoha? And yet, they are merely the police department, Miho. Not ANBU leaders, not political figures. Only the _police_. Did that ever strike you as strange?"

The approach Hiroki was using to speak with her was much different than normal. Miho could not find it in her heart to give a jibing reply, so she just shook her head. She'd never found it strange. She would never have found it strange. Because she did not _care_.

"When the Uchiha saved the Saruji from annihilation," continued Hiroki, "your mother and I were deeply indebted to them. Grateful for them. And we…we began to grow more affiliated with them. They are a tightly knit clan, Miho. Yet they trusted us. And years after Aki died, I still held strong bonds with them—strong enough that they fully trust me, have accepted me as part of their clan because of my influence at the Academy, because of my strength, because of my…loyalty, I suppose. But most importantly, Miho…it's because of you."

Miho stared at him.

"…_What_?"

"Miho, the Ishachi is formidable in more ways than one. Regardless if it does drain away a life force—the Saruji are phenomenal at the medical field. The best Saruji contested personally with the famous Senju Tsunade! You are the last carrier, Miho. They want you to mingle with them, to…"

Miho understood instantly.

"To reproduce," she said flatly.

Hiroki let out a weary breath. "Yes, Miho. To produce offspring. Already, you are…closely bound to Uchiha Itachi. And what more could they want? The best shinobi they've seen in years—Itachi has the finest Uchiha genes running through his blood—paired with the last member of the Saruji clan, who, based on only your first few weeks in the hospital, is a genius in her own art? It's wonderful to them, Miho."

"Then why don't you want it?" she nearly cried. "They _support_ me, but you don't! And this is something I want to do!"

"Because the Uchiha are not all they seem to be," whispered Hiroki fiercely. "I support them—I believe what they are doing is right—but I do not want my daughter mingling too intimately with them. The deeper you go with the Uchiha, Miho, the more danger you are in. And Aki would never forgive me if I drew you to your own demise for _politics_."

"…Politics?" said Miho, bewildered.

"I can't tell you, Miho. The most I can say is that _I don't want you to know_. And…I would like you to stay on guard around Itachi."

"This doesn't make sense," she snapped, anger filling the void that disbelief always gave her. "Just a few weeks ago, you supported me and Itachi! You _wanted_ us to—to be together when I hated him! And now that we are, you…_why_ can't you just support me for once in my life?"

"Supporting you to make a wrong decision is not the right path I should take!" said Hiroki angrily. "I'm trying to keep you safe!"

"Then tell me what's going on," demanded Miho. "Tell me of your change of heart. Tell me what the Uchiha are planning. Tell me exactly everything that's wrong with me, with you, because what I just can't understand is why you're so suddenly against my being close to the Uchiha!"

"That's not something I can tell you, Miho," said Hiroki gravely. "All…all I can do is warn you. All I can do is keep you at bay, in the dark, for ignorance is bliss. I want you to promise me, Miho, to keep away from the deep affairs of the Uchiha. If you must, and obdurately need to, stay by Uchiha Itachi, then…so be it. But do not attend any Uchiha meeting, Miho. And do not stray too far from…a solid path."

"You're being cryptic. You're being absolutely insane. I—"

"Miho. Please."

She snapped her mouth shut, her gray eyes glaring at her father in defiance, but at the same time, in acquiescence. Hardly ever did her father ask nicely. Kindly. Like a father. For once in his life.

But whether he cared or not about her was useless. The damage had been done. And Miho was growing independent.

She shook her head.

"I'll do what I want."

* * *

It was quiet once Miho and her father left the Uchiha home. What had initially been a somewhat pleasant albeit awkward dinner became a sullen, even more awkward departure. Miho was confused and angry.

Itachi was just angry.

He had long begun to suspect exactly what Fugaku was planning; though the young Uchiha had been trying his best not to participate in its planning, futilely hoping that the plans would simply fall through, it seemed that every clandestine meeting's decisions had finally arrived at a conclusion.

Itachi knew the plan before Fugaku said the fatal words.

Coup d'etat.

He listened listlessly as Fugaku enumerated the reasons as to why the Uchiha clan was plotting such a disaster. Such treason. For clan pride, he said. For the years of neglect, for the years of being shunted to the side when the Uchiha had played such an essential role in the founding of Konoha. For years of undelivered recognition.

But Itachi didn't care. He didn't see the point. He couldn't understand. Why did it all matter? Konoha, after years and years of turbulence and warfare, was finally at peace. There were actually old people, strolling through the streets, hand-in-hand. A younger generation was being raised and taught to defend themselves, not taught to specifically kill others.

It was quiet. A haven. A blissful serenity that he utterly appreciated.

And then, Fugaku said words that Itachi had not expected.

"Itachi, we want you to be our double-agent."

Itachi stared at him.

"…What?"

"The Hokage has long recognized your abilities," explained Fugaku passively. "It is no secret to everyone in this clan that you report to him directly. Only fourteen, and captain of ANBU? It's not a feat that occurs often, Itachi. You are therefore closest to the higher-ups of the Konoha government; it will be up to you to infiltrate on their defenses, let us know their weaknesses, so we can better prepare ourselves for the coup."

"…You want me to betray the village."

"…Yes, we do," said Fugaku firmly. "Your loyalty to this clan—to this family, Itachi, should outweigh the mere respect you give to the village."

"I…"

"Itachi," said his father with deadly resolution. "You are an Uchiha to the end. Generations of our ancestor's blood flows through your veins. The best of the best. The elite of the elite. Know where your loyalty lies."

But it was with Konoha. Because he didn't care for pride or for his clan. For his clansmen, yes, but not for their obstinate foolish hubris that would be the downfall of them all.

And betray the village? Betray every person he saw on the street, every child, elder, mother, father, every non-Uchiha, even—

Miho.

Because even though he and Miho had not been "dating" for terribly long, had not even been on their first day-long outing together, she was of some importance. Not at the forefront of his mind, but definitely not at the back either. Because he was comfortable around her. He was so…life seemed just so easy when she was there. She was someone to fall back on. To joke with. Someone he could act realistically around, actually be a fourteen year old around, not a prodigy, not a shinobi, a…a kid.

He'd betray Miho as well?

Instead of the village, he'd save his clan. And Itachi knew that Miho would choose the individuals she loved over the village—but that was just the way she was. She held no patriotic attachment—but he did.

"Your hesitation—is it for Chiaki Miho?" said Fugaku, breaking the still sullen silence.

Itachi did not nod his head, nor did he shake it. Miho was part of his hesitation, but only a part. He was carrying the weight of the entire village on his shoulders, and she was only one life among the masses—she was not the only one living in Konoha.

"Don't worry about Chiaki Miho," said Fugaku plainly. "As I said before—both Hiroki and his daughter are practically honorary Uchiha members—Hiroki knows every plan we're making and is supporting it fully."

"…What?"

"Hiroki has long been a supporter of the Uchiha, and equally discontent with the political standing that we currently have," Fugaku replied musingly. "So do not worry—they are with us."

Fugaku stood up, sighing a bit as he looked down on Itachi, who sat rooted to his chair.

"I expect the best out of you, my son," said his father with a rare smile. "You are the basis of this clan's survival. And I know—as your proud father—that you will succeed no matter what."

* * *

It was the prologue to hell.

* * *

There was a soft clack against his window in the middle of the night. Itachi jerked instantly out of bed—he had not been asleep for a second, but the sharp rap against the glass had a disconcerting effect on him, especially after he'd been lapsed in stagnant silence for hours.

The sound disappeared as quickly as it came. Itachi relaxed, leaning against the pillows, resting his head on his hand. His head hurt from the hours of prolonged thinking and meditation—he still did not know what he was supposed to do. Betray the village? That was impossible.

But he could not fail his clan either. His family. His extended family of fourteen years and counting. It was all too…impossible. His headache grew, numbing his entire body as he immersed himself on the bed that now seemed too hard, too rickety, uncomfortable. His chest hurt. His mind hurt. His entire body ached with the burden.

Why him? Why was it always him? Why had he been born a genius? Why couldn't he have just been an idiot, a resolute, naïve, hopeless idiot? Why couldn't it have been his brother, Sasuke, who was in his shoes instead?

Itachi closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he massaged his head with his index fingers. How could he have even thought such a thing? To wish the burden on innocent Sasuke? Sasuke, who saw him as the world and the epitome of everything a shinobi could be? Itachi had not been aware of the degree of imperfection he contained.

A sharp clack again, louder and more urgent. Itachi's eyes flew open and his gaze swiveled to the window, the blood-red irises swirling in attentiveness; he strode to the windowsill and threw it open, his eyes scanning down below.

A lone feminine figure stood directly below the window, her body pressed against the wall as she looked surreptitiously around in hopes that no one else had noticed her. At the rasping sound of the window's hinges turning, she looked up, relieved.

Of course it would be Miho.

She scaled up the wall effortlessly and entered the room, her skin brushing his gently and unintentionally as she landed on the floor, eliciting a creaking sound from the worn-out tiles. Miho winced.

"You're far from being an expert at infiltration, Chiaki-san," said Itachi softly, closing the windows as slowly as he could to prevent another sound from breaking into the air. "Though I must say—is it really because I'm tired that I can't sense your chakra? I didn't know you were standing outside."

"I came to talk, Uchiha, not to banter."

Her words were cold and brisk, a deadly quiet. She turned to him, her eyes equally chilling. Her entire body was tense, her hands balled up into fists.

"And what have I done to warrant your anger, Chiaki-san?" said Itachi wearily, sitting down on his bed and beckoning for her to do the same.

"I'm…I'm not angry at you," she said quietly, her eyes softening up a bit as she sat opposite of him. "I just want some answers."

"What would you like to know?"

"I'd like to know what your clan is planning—apparently, it's something so dangerous that my father no longer wants me to associate myself with you for fear of my safety."

"Hiroki-sensei wants you not to affiliate with me?" repeated Itachi, surprised.

"Mm. I want to know why he's so against it…especially when he was all for it only a few weeks ago."

"That…"

Itachi knew what Hiroki was doing. By keeping Miho in the dark, he was creating a safety net to catch her in case the plans were foiled—and if they succeeded, all he had to do was drag Miho along with them. The Uchiha valued the Ishachi. That much was obvious. And Itachi had been right from the very beginning—Hiroki cared an infinite amount for Miho, regardless of how much he acted like it.

Was this the best idea, then? If Itachi pushed her away, then, by default, she'd be safe either way. She'd be a bystander, one of the thousands and thousands of civilians living in Konoha. If Itachi betrayed Konoha, then she would be saved—the Uchiha would simply spare her. If Itachi betrayed…his family, then…

He didn't want to think about betraying his family. It seemed so utterly taboo that his thoughts could not dwell on such a scenario for very long.

But then the question became: did he need Miho? Did she need him? Did he need to tell her what was going on, or was keeping her in the dark the better idea?

Miho's grey eyes hardened.

"Uchiha," she said silkily.

"I can't tell you," he blurted out.

There was a slight pause. Itachi didn't breathe, his Sharingan instead darting around the room, ready for any physical onslaught that Miho had prepared.

"…I see," was all she said.

"Chiaki-san…I—"

"No, I understand. It's fine." Her tone was strangely resigned. "I know—it's clan classified. And you don't want me to be part of the clan—and I get that—I don't want to be part of the Uchiha either, honorary or not…but I was just thinking that if I wasn't let in on all this information, your family would be against our…relationship as well…"

So that was what she was worried about. Rightfully so, because Itachi had half a mind to break it off right then and there. There was no need for them to be affiliated, especially when all it meant was an inevitable demise for Miho emotionally either way. If he broke it off, it would be easier for her. She would remain out of the line of fire. It would be a completely selfless act, the quintessence of his entire entity.

"Uchiha."

"Mm?"

"Do you even want this relationship at all?"

Here was a chance. A clean, easy break.

"Of course I do."

…What? That wasn't what he had planned to say.

Relief broke out over Miho's face; she looked away, her shoulders instinctively relaxing as she brushed her hair out of her face. Her pale face showed pink color tingeing her cheeks especially well when it was illuminated by slivers of moonlight.

"Ah, good," she said with one of those cryptic, uncommon smiles of hers. "I was thinking I was the only one getting unreasonably attached…"

It was just her—it was all just one-sided. He needed to break it off before they went any deeper, before the "first date" actually happened, before a first consensual kiss, before intertwined fingers and any of those ridiculous romantic steps to being an actual couple—

"Miho."

She blinked in surprise at hearing her name.

"…Mm?"

He had his speech prepared.

_This relationship is unwanted. Unneeded. Unnecessary. We need a break. A permanent break. A clean break until everything blows over, until everything that the Uchiha clan is planning happens or doesn't happen, but either way, until you hate me with infinity times the amount that you hated me with in the very beginning, before you even knew me. Because I have an indescribable burden on my shoulders, one that I cannot possibly share with you because you will definitely collapse under it, which is why I need to save you like I need to save the rest of Konoha. So that you are only a civilian, nearly a figment of my imagination, a…_

He leaned forward and kissed her very gently, very innocently. The contact lingered, for neither pulled away. Miho returned the kiss extremely hesitantly, nearly experimentally…it was so simple. So warm.

Itachi would regret the kiss so much. In the morning, when his head was clear.

Because he had been selfish for the first time in his life. He'd taken something—someone—for himself, despite knowing the consequences.

His first and only selfish act in a lifetime punctured by too much bad luck and too much selflessness.

* * *

**Free Talk:**

Hello everyone! Sorry for such a long wait. I definitely didn't forget you-I just had such a busy last few months that it's been difficult to update everything regularly. Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter, as that was absolutely lovely. :)

As always, the chapter is rather fast-paced. I know Miho and Itachi have just barely engaged in a relationship, but I like to think of them as slightly mature for their age, and so their relationship has progressed much faster. And, as evidently seen, we are close to embarking on the darker aspects of this story/plot. The happy times are sadly ending.

More on my LJ later about some plot clarifications and future plans. Check it out if you wish! :) And please kindly leave another review. I will try my hardest to update as soon as I can if you do! :D

As always, thanks for reading! Let me know if you have any questions/comments.

xoxo,  
m.n


	9. The Things They Carried

**Chapter 9: The Things They Carried**

The meetings with the Hokage and the elders started shortly after the night that Itachi was informed of his double-agent role. But he knew innately from the very beginning of that torturous night: he could not betray Konoha. His clan's wishes were a different story—perhaps he could persuade them, find someone within the Uchiha who agreed that the coup was not a good idea…and then peace could still coexist.

The Hokage was aware of the planned coup. How? Because Itachi had told him. Even though every word he spilled out made his throat burn and his heart convulse in a manner that destroyed him from the inside out with unspeakable guilt, he told them everything. The village's lives over the petty wishes of the Uchiha clan.

He prayed that the Hokage could find a solution. A peaceful solution. Maybe it would land Itachi in disgrace in the eyes of his clansmen, but that was hardly a sacrifice. Besides, Miho had made it clear that night that she was quite fine with Itachi, whether or not he was an Uchiha. She did not care. And it comforted him, at least in the slightest, to know that there was at least _someone_ who still cared for him as himself and not as a prodigy of his people, and even thought she wasn't _everything_, couldn't really compare to the significance of his parents, who would be infinitely ashamed of his actions, or Sasuke, who would hate him with every fiber of his being, having the backing of some_one_ somehow persuaded him to keep functioning.

Every time he saw Miho though, he couldn't help but feel, at the same time, repulsed. Not with her, but with himself. What was the point of keeping her with him? Just so he could satisfy some selfish desire, a futile hope that he could still be accepted by someone regardless of anything—who knew if Miho was even telling the truth? She was a girl of fourteen—her whims could change as quickly as they came. What, indeed, if every hope he had placed in her was wasted, and all he would incur by keeping her at his side was pain for the both of them?

Itachi was beginning to go insane. Fourteen, and already showing the indisputable signs of mental wear. He found himself muttering when he was alone, muttering things unintelligible to even himself. Back and forth he wavered—should he betray his family—should he push Miho away—should he tell her everything—constant wavering that just infuriated him so deeply because it wasn't _like_ him to waver. Yet he had never been confronted with such dilemmas, and he had no idea what to do. His genius could not help him—this was not a new jutsu to learn, a new formula or applicable equation. Ethics was what it was. Ethics, morals, human-dictated guidelines that were embedded firmly into every being's conscience since the minute of their birth.

It took time. Hours melted into days, days evaporated into weeks. He made up his mind for his questions. Slowly, quietly, somewhat indecisively. He made them, though, and he would enact them.

Every choice went according to the feeble guidelines of humanly written ethics.

* * *

Miho wasn't going to pretend that something wasn't wrong with Itachi. The day after she'd snuck into his room to demand some sort of confirmation for her father's words, Itachi had gone to the Hokage's office for a long period of time. Thinking that he was receiving instructions for an important mission, she had not gone to seek him out, only to discover days later that the Itachi who'd entered that office was not remotely like the person who left it. The weeks following that meeting were strange, almost tense. She really didn't know what to say to him. Indeed, what _could_ she say when Itachi was half as social as he normally was, when he was quiet and tired all the time, when it seemed like he had aged a decade overnight?

But they ended up spending more time together than they'd done before.

It was quiet between them, most of the time, when they just had meals together and would go for long, unending walks all around Konoha. Miho would notice Itachi's dark eyes scanning for every little detail—a dog scavenging for tossed food, a child dropping a stick of candy, a stray balloon floating up into the sky.

Normally impatient and inherently annoyed, Miho did confront him about it.

"What's going on?" she said one day at lunch at their regular café.

Itachi's eyes flickered from his barely touched soup to meet her gaze, then back down to stare at his chopsticks.

"Whatever would you mean, Miho?" he replied sedately.

He had started calling her by her first name in the rare moments he would speak at all. His voice would trail over it, almost analyzing it, like it was some therapeutic mantra that he could repeat over and over again to soothe his senses. It, in some bizarre way, calmed her.

"Don't joke," she said, also toying with her platter of noodles. "Something's not…right with you. Ever since you went to the Hokage. What did he tell you?"

"…Nothing of major importance," he answered, meeting her gaze steadfastly.

Miho snorted. "The Hokage called you specifically to his office to tell you 'nothing of major importance?' Don't question my intelligence, _Uchiha_. I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

"When have I ever said that you were stupid?" said Itachi calmly. "I would never do such a thing—that would be analogous to suicide."

Miho stared at him incredulously, irritated with his incredibly nonchalant behavior and his determination to avoid her question along with his clear intention to goad her into forgetting.

"Itachi," she said seriously.

His mouth twitched upon hearing his name, almost in a smirk that ultimately failed.

"Ah? No tirade, Miho?" he said.

"Don't expect me to fall for your distractions," she said coolly. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, Miho," said Itachi in his customary smooth fashion. "You're under a…false impression that something would be wrong. I've been more worried about you, you know."

Miho unconsciously flushed.

"What do you mean?"

"You know," he said, "you're always scribbling away in that journal of yours—that's a habit I hadn't picked up on until recently."

"It's to document my patients in the hospital," she said dryly. "Nothing serious."

"You're always writing in it when you're in your hotel room."

"It's only occasional—" She paused. "…I've never written in it in front of you when we're in the hotel," she said slowly.

He seemed to realize his mistake instantly. "That is…I'm guessing, of course."

"You've been _stalking_ me?"

"Of course not. You know, just checking up on you—"

"Uchiha!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sighed. "I promise not to do it again—"

"No, that's not it," she snapped. "Itachi, nice as it is, we've been spending a lot of time together lately, and the fact that you're not even home when we're _not_ together is…is strange."

She paused, looking at him, thinking. Itachi was not the type to avoid his family. Even if Fugaku was demanding, Itachi still had Mikoto and Sasuke to care for.

"…Is…whatever's going on in your clan…is it affecting your…" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully, "your familial relations?"

"…Perhaps," conceded Itachi, his eyes closing as he brought a cup of tea to his lips. "I wouldn't be so worried on my part, Miho. I'm not the only one with clear familial problems."

"My father and I have never gotten along well to begin with," said Miho coldly.

"What makes you think my father and I have?" he replied.

There was a silence, filled in by the business of lunch hour in the café, but the external noise didn't seem to be enough to punctuate the dropped temperature between the two of them. Itachi sighed, put down his now empty cup, and stood up, tossing a few bills on the table indecorously.

"I'm guessing you're not going to finish either," he said. "Let's walk."

Miho stood up as well, fleetingly wishing that she could at least box up the lunch and take it home so she wouldn't have to waste food, but given the circumstances, holding Itachi back any longer would not be a wise idea.

They exited the café and headed habitually down the road that would lead to the bridge close to the hospital. Miho let out a breath, enjoying the abundant sunshine of noontime, while Itachi walked beside her, presumably bored.

"When did you start writing in a journal?" he asked suddenly.

"…A few weeks ago," Miho responded, somewhat startled with the question. Her journaling had begun shortly after she'd noticed how strange Itachi was behaving. It had been something to distract her. "It was just an idea I got from my mother. It seemed to be a bit…remedial for her when it came to dealing with her life and her patients."

"Are you in need of a curative, Miho?" said Itachi with a slight smirk as they stepped onto the solid wooden bridge. "Is life going wrong?"

"…It's been all right," she said cautiously, somewhat taken back with the wryness of his smirk and his atypical wording. "Things could be going better between my father and me if I wanted them to, but…"

"…Hiroki-sensei cares for you a great amount. For your mentality, your wellbeing…you should patch things up with him."

"Are you saying that your father doesn't care for your wellbeing?" she said without restraint, immediately regretting the words the moment they were out of her mouth.

Itachi stopped his rhythmic stride at the apex of the bridge, causing Miho to stop with him. She looked at him coolly, though not without a hint of nervousness. It was undeniable that sometimes—_just_ sometimes—she was frightened of Itachi. Itachi, who was self-sacrificial and cared the world for others, for Konoha, Itachi, who probably wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it. Regardless, though, she just _sometimes_ was frightened of him, of the depth in his onyx eyes, especially as of late when he was always meditating and thinking. But Miho could never think that Itachi would _hurt_ her, because he couldn't hurt anyone he was close to. It just wasn't possible for his nature.

His eyes softened a bit, and he tore his gaze from his and directed it elsewhere. A quiet chuckle escaped from his lips.

"I do admit that sometimes, I wish you weren't as bright as you are," he confessed. "That you didn't play the 'people analysis' game as vehemently and as well as you do, innately though it is."

Miho didn't answer, instead listening with bated breath.

"Or perhaps you're only so keen to analyze me," he continued. "Or you're only so good when you analyze me. Do I slip up when I'm around you? Do I make the game easier?"

"No," she deadpanned, unable to resist answering the rhetorical question. "No, you don't. Not at all."

Itachi gave a small smile. Not a smirk this time—a _smile_, one that she hadn't seen in days. It didn't, however, hide the measure of coldness in his eyes.

"Well, that's comforting." He paused, then started up again. "I wish we weren't so similar. Or _dissimilar_, as it seems most of the time."

Itachi was beginning to make no sense. Miho let his silence hover, silently counting every heartbeat that passed by.

"Can I be brutally honest with you?" he said, abruptly turning around to face her.

Miho blinked, feeling a bit apprehensive. "Y-yeah."

"I am strongly attracted to you, I believe, because you represent everything that I wish I could be. Selfish in the sense that you care for individuals rather than a global community, selfish in the sense that you can abandon your duty as a kunoichi—as an ANBU member—for a field that satisfies you more. It…it _irks_ me, how _free_ you can be without feeling guilty about it."

She stared.

"You _like_ me because I'm _selfish_," she summarized in disbelief.

"Something along those lines."

"Because you wish you _could_ be selfish."

"True."

"Are…are you…" She thought wildly for the right words to express her incredulity. She could not hold it back—her annoyance, her irate personality that clamored to break free of her attempted maturity. "Are you _out of your mind_? Is that all you see when you look at me—that I'm _selfish_? And why would it be so wrong, _Uchiha_, for me to try and pursue something that would make _me_ happy? Do you really think I'd be doing the world any good in a field that I hate? And what exactly, Mr. Self-Sacrificial, is so wrong with wanting more to protect people I know than people I've never met? Sorry we can't all be like you, perfect in all thoughts and attempts to help _better the world_—"

"Do you _really_ still have the reason to call me perfect anymore, Miho?" said Itachi softly.

She was panting slightly from saying everything in one long breath. Her eyes were fixated on his, cold and furious, but she knew her answer long before she voiced it.

"No."

Itachi looked dementedly satisfied. "Good."

Miho shook her head, her feet unconsciously taking her a step back. She knew what Itachi was doing. Purposefully, of course, but even though she knew his motives, it did not make his words any more pleasant, or his meaning any less distinct.

"I don't know what's going on with you," she said quietly. "I don't know why you're doing this, or why you're trying to push me away when I can _safely_ say, Uchiha Itachi, that I may be the one person who understands you best."

Itachi's eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

"But if you want to keep a distance, that's fine," she said icily. "I'll keep it." She gave a curt nod. "Goodbye."

It wasn't too hard to walk away. Really, it wasn't.

* * *

"Hey, Itachi," said Shisui as he leaned against a tree in the forest that lingered outside the Land of the Mist.

Itachi looked up from the semi-worn out journal he was reading.

"Mm?"

"…Isn't that Chiaki Miho's book?"

"Why ever would you think that?" he answered, his eyes returning to the pages.

"…It says 'Property of Chiaki Miho' in bold, blue ink, right on the front."

Itachi absentmindedly shut the book slightly in order to get a better look of the cover page.

"I must've missed that," he drawled, "but now that I have it, I might as well read it to alleviate my boredom."

"…It also says 'Curses and explosive seals inside.'"

"I caught that note," said Itachi lazily. "I've already deactivated all her silly little seals. She's much too paranoid—either that, or she considers herself so important that others would try to read her journal, and she sees explosive seals as a wonderful way to keep them out. Sometimes, I wonder why she's so asinine when it comes to these things when most of the time, she's actually quite clever."

"…Do I even want to know what you're doing?"

"No, Shisui," said Itachi to his cousin levelly. "You don't."

"Er…well, can I just ask…does she _know_—"

"Of course not," said Itachi dryly. "That would take all the fun out of reading her private entries…"

"…Uh, shouldn't you be careful then? Like…you're making it kind of obvious that you've been reading it," said Shisui dubiously.

"How offensive, Shisui. I'm being extremely careful with this booklet."

"You folded the cover page, Itachi. It's got a crease in it now."

"Chiaki-san is not the most graceful or obsessively compulsive girl in the world. She will most likely blame it on herself."

"Itachi, seriously," said Shisui doubtfully. "She'll like…murder you."

"Hardly," said the younger Uchiha, flipping the page as his dark eyes continued to read each line with rapt yet divided attention. "She is not that capable."

"Last time I checked, she was the only one to have you hospitalized, close to death."

"That was hardly her doing—I was only foolish enough to drink her blood. What caused my organs to rupture was not her skill but her hereditary kekkei genkai."

"Whatever…" sighed Shisui, shutting his swirling crimson eyes briefly. "Well, I'm beat. You can take the next shift, seeing as you're not about to sleep any time soon. Be alert, Itachi. We're pretty close to the border."

"Mm," said Itachi halfheartedly, but he guessed Shisui had not heard him. The man was already snoring away. The younger Uchiha turned his full attention back to the booklet and began to read again.

The journal, contrary to what Miho had told him, was not comprised purely of patient data. In fact, Miho seemed to have poured out all her thoughts into this one shabby cloth-bound book. Unwise, as a shinobi and as a girl. Itachi, in one of his stalking moments, had caught sight of her Summoning the book from a scroll. Though the seals had been conducted rather dexterously despite her thoughts that she was alone, Miho's speed was still nothing compared to Itachi's, especially when his Sharingan was activated. Three seals, all different. Horse, ox, dragon. Not too difficult, really. If she was going to leave her soul so vulnerable, she really should've made the Summoning seal longer and more complicated.

Itachi had gained access to the journal easily, simply using one of his spare Summoning scrolls and thinking of precisely what he wanted to get. Traditionally, the item that had been Summoned was bound to the original scroll, but Itachi had ways and jutsu that could get around such a barrier…

The journal entries, unsurprisingly enough, sometimes if not often contained him. His name was never mentioned, as Miho had adopted her mother's habit of leaving out full names. But while patients were referred to by their surname or initials, Itachi was simply referred to as "him" or "he."

Itachi was reaching the end of the journal now, though a good half of the book still contained blank, pure pages. He had skimmed the hospital jargon – it was a bit boring for him, to be honest – and instead found interest in the ones that Miho had written deeply into. It was easy to tell which ones were the interesting ones just by looking at the text. Her handwriting would grow stilted, the ink (usually blue or black, and very rarely a light red bordering pink that was outrageously hard to read) sometimes perforating into small balls of hesitation on the paper.

Itachi blinked his eyes, getting rid of the dryness, and dragged his vision to the last and most recent entry. It was dated the day after they'd had their encounter on the bridge.

_It's getting to the point where I'm scared_, she wrote. _Exactly _why_ I'm frightened is beyond me. I am a capable individual—I can protect myself and I can take down a good majority of shinobi in this village. I _know_ my capabilities. But I've also always known that I've never been able to beat him, and most likely never will be. So lately, when he just sits there and his eyes grow extremely cold—colder than I've ever seen anyone's eyes to be, and it's strange that it'd be _him_ to have such cold depth…he's not a cold person—and so if he turns to me after a momentary lapse into this iciness, it startles me. I feel like I see a completely different person, someone who's _not_ him, and that's when I know one hundred percent that he is definitely hiding something, something dark and shadowed. I can tell. _

_I can read him now. He is still cautious around me, he still keeps up his guard, but I can sure as hell read him better than I could before. And I know he is hiding something he doesn't want to hide, because sometimes he just looked at me with an expression that was like imploring me to ask "What's wrong?" so he had a reason to spill it out. But when I do ask—when I _did_ ask…he pushed me away. I am not stupid. I am proud. I know when he's giving me a signal. And even if I don't like it—even if I wanted to punch him in the face or kick him in the groin and poke him in the eyes just because—I know when to take a signal, and I'll go away._

_But…I wish. I just wish. _

_Sometimes I feel like our relationship is so one-sided, like I'm the only one being exposed with all my insecurities and troubles. He has a way of making me confide, confess, and before I realized it, I had no more cards to play. He's still an enigma to me, even though I've gotten better at reading him, but I wish he would willingly open up. I wish he would know that I'm not there to harm him, not there to make him question himself. I…I just don't want to be the only one feeling this vulnerable. _

_Otou-san is glad I'm back at home now. He has been the kindest he's been in years. Considerate, perfectly fine with my being at the hospital now that I'm no longer seeing _him_…I can't say that it hasn't been a good change. It's nice to have a parent._

Itachi rubbed his eyes, flipping cautiously to the next page to make sure there were no more entries. The page was thankfully blank, and he let out a breath of relief. It wasn't like he didn't feel guilty reading it…it was just a good way for him to check up on Miho.

Itachi resealed the explosive notes to the journal—they had been rather cleverly designed to not hurt the journal itself but only the perpetrator reading it—and unraveled the Summoning scroll. He bit his thumb, drawing blood, and painted the appropriate seal on the blank white sheet in front of him. Muttering a quiet mantra under his breath, he placed the journal in the center of the scroll, performed the necessary seals, and the journal disappeared with a quiet pop and white puff of smoke.

The young Uchiha sighed, resting his head against the tree he was leaning on and looked up at the sky. The high treetops, swaying gently in a light wind, allowed a mere bit of moonlight to shine into Shisui's and his camp. His elder cousin was already snoring away, his contentment only at its maximum because he could trust Itachi's abilities.

Miho was incorrect – she still had plenty of cards to play when it came to dealing with Itachi, which was precisely why he had pushed her away so adamantly. She was very much capable of challenging him, wavering him, and he could not afford to be swayed – the mission for the Hokage was one that he absolutely could not fail. Being around Miho increased the chances of that failure occurring multifold.

Itachi let his eyes flutter closed but remained on guard, his senses expanding to encompass the area for any lurking and unwelcome chakra.

He and Shisui were on a follow-up mission to the one that Itachi and Miho had first been assigned. That rather disastrous but somehow successful fiasco of a mission now seemed years ago, at a time where he was infinitely less troubled. Itachi and Shisui were supposed to infiltrate the village once again and check the scrolls to make sure that there were no further spies in Konoha. It was, however, much less easy than it was supposed to be before to sneak in the village—security had been beefed up after their last infiltration. Itachi and Shisui, however, were two of the most talented shinobi in Konoha. It would not be terribly difficult, he hoped.

When a few hours passed and dawn began to make its subtle entrance into the sky, Itachi did not wake Shisui up for his shift. He just let everything stay still as he let his presence melt into nature and its quietness.

"Itachi, you should've woken me up," chastised Shisui when he saw Itachi yawn for a second time in one minute. "Pulling an all-nighter before village infiltration? Not the smartest move, you know."

"I'm f-fine," said Itachi, unable to stifle yet another yawn. "You just take the front—I'll follow up."

"Seriously, Itachi," said Shisui sternly, "this is a bit worrisome. You're not like this most of the time—this kind of behavior is reckless."

"Shut up, please," muttered Itachi.

"I'm not saying that just because of last night, you know. You've been really distracted lately—and I've noticed that your behavior around the clan leaders has gotten awful…rude, almost. What's up with you, Itachi?"

"Nothing, Shisui. Absolutely nothing. Now please stop badgering me."

"Itachi…"

Itachi let out a breath and bounded forward. It was true that he was a bit tired, but he certainly had enough energy to carry out the mission. As for his behavior…he gritted his teeth as he swung over a tree branch. He had gotten a bit more insolent. He needed to control himself better…there was no way that the clan could figure out he was actually being the Hokage's double-agent, not the Uchiha's. And intelligent Shisui had already noticed the change…what if he had already mentioned it to Fugaku or another leader? What would happen then?

In fact…Itachi chanced a glance in Shisui's direction. His cousin was looking straight ahead, not noticing the surreptitious look. Was Shisui suspicious of him? For what, though?

"We go in from above," reminded Shisui as the two of them landed on the branch of a tall true that overlooked the village. The sun was beginning to fade, yielding way to the darker skies that would be illuminated by specks of stars and a giant orb of a moon. "Ready?"

"Mm."

Both of them leapt forward from the tree simultaneously, but Shisui's pace was a bit quicker. The plan had been for both of them to enter at the exact same time in order to not trigger any alarms. Unfortunately, Itachi had been slower than he'd anticipated—or hoped. His foot accidentally bent midair to the side, and the moment his body entered the range of the village, he knew by instinct that he'd snagged the trigger to a trap. Malignant chakra—lightning element—laced up his leg, numbing it and drawing blood. Sure enough, an alarm resounded through the entire village the instant he landed silently yet painfully on the roof of a house.

Shisui turned to him furiously the instant he heard the alarm.

"Itachi!"

"Fuck," said Itachi under his breath, his Sharingan already activated.

"What the hell—"

There was really no point in Shisui demanding a reason. Enemies were already surrounding them on all sides.

It was going to be another long night.

* * *

It had been a long day at the hospital. Miho had gotten home a bit late, around eight or eight-thirty p.m., surprised to find a solitary note on the dinner table and no one in the house. A cursory scan of the note told her that the Uchiha had called Hiroki in for another meeting—which were certainly more frequent as of late—and that he would be home around nine.

She sighed and moved to the kitchen, tying her hair up in a loose ponytail. Potatoes were stocked in abundance in the pantry room, so she didn't even need to think about the night's menu: baked potato soup.

Miho had just gotten the water to boil (she'd cheated a bit with a mini-Katon jutsu) when the front door to her house burst open. She turned around instantly, her kitchen knife placed in front of her as a weapon as her left hand went to the handle of the steaming pot on the stove. Scalding hot water was a very useful weapon.

There was no need for the caution, however. It was merely Hiroki who'd entered the room, his face pale and his clothes windswept. Miho raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong, Otou-san?"

His response was immediate and startling. "Itachi failed his mission."

Miho stared. "…Surely you're joking? Didn't he go with Shisui-san? Wouldn't that be a guaranteed success?"

"You need to come with me to the hospital, Miho. Itachi needs your attention—he's severely wounded."

These reports—that Itachi had actually failed his mission _and_ was severely injured—did not correlate at all with the profile that Miho had of him. Nevertheless, as it was apparently a matter of life or death, she let her snide comments slide and simply turned off the stove immediately. Hiroki beckoned for her to follow him, and the two of them were soon in a running pace towards the hospital.

"He was apparently distracted throughout the entire mission," said Hiroki. "Shisui said that Itachi had not slept at all the night before their infiltration—"

"…They were both awake the entire night?" said Miho wryly.

"No, Itachi did not wake Shisui for his shift."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. Shisui said that Itachi was acting abnormal anyway, but the lack of sleep worsened his concentration, and the two of them were detected the moment they landed. Shisui managed to fend his share of opponents off, but Itachi was severely wounded before Shisui could get both of them out of the village safely."

"How bad are the wounds?" said Miho, unconsciously picking up her speed.

"Chest stabs, limbs have been numbed by some sort of electric jutsu."

"That doesn't seem too bad. The medics there can take care of something so basic."

"That's not it though—they feel like he may have been poisoned."

"Symptoms?"

"He's unable to breathe, he has hemophilia, his major organs have already begun to shut down—"

"Starting when?" said Miho sharply, her speed increasing yet again.

"Ten minutes ago."

Miho did not ask any further, instead letting her easily-moving chakra flow to her legs. She rushed forward in a huge burst of acceleration, leaving her father far behind, and skidded into the ICU within seconds. The entire place was chaos, with Uchiha members scuttling left and right amidst the doctors. Miho's gray eyes scanned the scene, trying to find someone she could ask to brief her on the situation…

"Chiaki-san!" said Hana, the Nurse proctor, the instant she saw Miho. The old woman moved to her side with agility contrary to her age, grabbing Miho's wrist and tugging her further in the division. "I suspect Hiroki has already told you of the situation?"

"I just need the medical facts," said Miho as she snatched a pair of gloves from a nearby counter and snapped them on. "Where is he?"

"Here," said Hana, guiding her to a closed door surrounded by people sporting multiple Uchiha crests on their clothes. "Step aside, everyone! We need to get through!"

"How is he?" came voices from all sides. "Is Itachi all right? Will he make it? Where's Shisui—"

Miho ignored them all, forcing her way through to the door and banging it open. Uchiha members attempted to follow her in, and it was only out of self-consideration and the thought that broken fingers would just be more for her to deal with later on that she did not snap their fingers in half with the door.

With the door locked safely behind her, she looked at the scene in front of her. The room was considerably emptier than the cacophonous hallway she'd just left, instead inhabited with just a few doctors whom Miho recognized to be the directors of the hospital, Fugaku, Mikoto, Sasuke, and Shisui, who was uninjured save for a long gash on his cheek.

"What's his condition?" said Miho, ignoring the others and striding to Itachi's bedside. He was connected to various monitors and machines. His chest had two crisscrossing gashes, both critically deep, that were still flooding his torso with blood. She glanced at the monitors—his heartbeat levels were dipping down at an alarming rate.

"We don't know if it's the blood loss or the poison that's causing his levels to decelerate at this rate," said one of the doctors. "Either way, we can't close the wound because it just reopens—"

"Why?" asked Miho.

"It's the poison – it's preventing any sort of catalyzed regeneration."

"Itachi," said Miho, leaning closely over his face. "Itachi, can you hear me?"

There was no response. His eyes were closed, his breaths shallow and hardly audible. Something by Miho's arm caught her eye, and she distractedly looked down.

It was Sasuke, standing closely at her elbow, looking at his elder brother with a horrified expression.

"Nii-san…"

"Get him out of here," snapped Miho, returning her attention to Itachi.

"Sasuke, come here," whispered Mikoto.

"Okaa-san, what's happening to Nii-san—"

"Get _out_ of here, Uchiha!" said Miho harshly.

"Sasuke, come here," said Fugaku sternly.

Miho closed her eyes, trying to think of the best course of action. Technically speaking, with the amount of blood loss, the poison should've worn off anyway. The wound itself was supposed to be the biggest issue, unless the poison was something that couldn't be bled out. She'd have to try to close the wound first, and pick up the poison as she went.

Her eyes reopened and her hands immediately went to Itachi's chest. Imbued with the friendly color of chakra, her fingers traced across the open wounds. Muscles, tissue, skin…Miho imagined them sealing back together, neatly woven to their original state…but her mental image wouldn't apply in reality—the wound would not close, the blood would not stop.

The monitor beeped alarmingly, a rapid beeping that indicated heart failure. Miho gritted her teeth, going through everything in her mental library that could save Itachi, but maybe it was because it was Itachi who was lying front of her, and she could not think of a single solution except for her own blood.

Merely giving Itachi her blood would not work – there was no way she could bleed fast enough for the volume of given blood to cover the amount that he'd lost – there was also a chance that his body would not accommodate it, and it would simply bleed out. Which left the only other option as an Ishachi carrier—assimilating his wounds.

Miho let out a deep breath.

"I'm going to take his wounds," she said to the doctor across from her. "I don't know how it works precisely, but judging from my readings, I won't be in any shape to continue the procedure. I'll close up his wounds, but it will be up to you to extract the poison – since we don't know the basis of it, we'd best use Senju Tsunade's technique for herb emulsification extraction for starters, and then you can take some of my blood for the rest of the antidote."

"But that's a considerable tax on your body—"

Miho ignored him and placed her gloved hands on Itachi's torso; she breathed in and out slowly, letting her chakra flow down her arms. She knew this process instinctively – her mother had documented the entire procedure multiple times. Miho's eyes unconsciously closed as she felt the energy leaving her, but the mental green pathway remained vivid in her mindset, and just as the green trickled to the edge of her fingertips, she emulsified it with Itachi's wounded chakra and jerked it back hastily.

Pain that erupted in her chest took her by surprise; Miho's eyes snapped open as she gasped breathlessly in discomfort, her vision focused on Itachi's wounds that were sealing up like a sewn-up hole in clothing. With every inch of his skin that repaired, though, her own pain intensified to the point where she was leaning heavily against the bed for support; Miho found herself struggling for air and support as she grew light-headed. Just a bit more, just another centimeter…she closed her eyes, her mind finding that bright green chakra line again. It was thinner, diminishing, and just as its last vestiges were about to flow out of her, Miho heard someone say, "That's enough!" as her chakra hovered at its exit before finally returning to her.

Miho collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air as she shook uncontrollably. She coughed, her mind numbed by the intense pain that was radiating all throughout her chest, and she found herself choking all of a sudden on a rising substance in her throat. Her coughing continued, this time more severely, and just as she thought she was going to die from asphyxiation, she spat blood out onto the floor of the room as the pain only grew worse.

She was beginning to see black dots in her vision, the desperate need for unconscious rest growing ever stronger, but she couldn't pass out just yet. She needed a syringe so she could draw just enough blood that would take care of the rest of the procedure; Miho attempted to stand, aiming for the steel platter that held the syringe she needed, but her legs didn't seem to be able to take it. She leaned heavily on the wall, trying to block out the screaming desire her brain was sending to just black out; someone appeared at her side, forcing her to sit back down as he looked up at the metal plate. Miho's gaze shifted up to see who had been so kind to help her instead of focusing on Itachi; much to her surprise, it was Sasuke.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"…The syringe," she breathed.

There was some clattering as he shuffled around. Sasuke reappeared in her line of vision shortly after, holding up the needle.

"This?"

"Mm…" she said wearily, taking it from him and positioning it on her left wrist. Her right hand was shaking so badly, though, that she could not catch her vein.

Again, it was Sasuke who helped. He took her hand in his and stabilized it, positioning right over the very prominent blue line.

"Here?" he questioned.

"Mm."

"How much?"

"Just…a little…"

"Tell me when to stop," he said seriously.

Slowly and with steadiness, Sasuke inserted the needle into her wrist. Miho nodded slightly when the needle was halfway in, causing Sasuke to stop and pull out the upper pump. The pain was completely insignificant in comparison to everything else she was feeling, but she winced regardless, nodding vigorously when just the right amount of blood had appeared in the tube.

Sasuke removed the needle gently and tottered up to a doctor, handing it over with some indistinct instructions. The doctor took it, and Miho felt relief wash over her. Itachi was going to be fine.

With the self-reassurance, she let herself grow unconscious.

* * *

"Don't you think it was unfair that they weren't helping her?"

"Sasuke, that—"

"She was helping Nii-san, and when she fell, the doctors didn't care."

"Because she had been expecting it, and the doctors knew that Itachi was in graver danger—"

"It's still not fair – she was coughing up blood and everything."

"They got her safely to another room shortly after, Sasuke. She's fine."

"Still…"

Itachi opened his eyes slowly, seeing first thing the now familiar scenery of the hospital ceiling. An audible exhalation escaped from him, causing the inhabitants of the room to look at him.

"Itachi!" said Mikoto breathlessly, rushing over to his bedside. "Thank goodness you're all right."

"Nii-san," grinned Sasuke, popping up right in front of him. "Feeling better?"

Itachi mustered a little smile and tousled Sasuke's hair gently.

"Never been better, Sasuke."

"Good," said the younger Uchiha with satisfaction. "Now we know that Miho's blood worked."

"…Miho?" said Itachi quizzically, already dreading the answer to his inquiry.

"How else do you think you managed to survive, Itachi?" said Mikoto. "You were in terrible condition – she had to assimilate the flesh wounds and then give you additional blood to address the poison."

Itachi grimaced. "Are all Konoha doctors completely incompetent that they have to rely on a fourteen year-old girl's kekkei genkai?"

"Quite the contrary," said a voice from the doorway sternly. "The question is whether _you_ are so incompetent that you could not even get one mission completed successfully."

Fugaku approached them, his expression contrasting from his tone. He looked extremely relieved to see Itachi awake and functioning, and it seemed that the lecture was only just a necessary statement.

"Otou-san," greeted Itachi placidly.

"How are you feeling, Itachi?"

"…Rather good, actually."

"…Good to hear. You should rest for an additional day, regardless – after that, however, we have much to discuss."

Itachi could feel his stomach drop. His situation was only going to take a turn for the worse – he knew that Shisui would've informed Fugaku and the clan elders about his distractedness throughout the entire mission. Coupled with his insolence over the past few days, Itachi was going to be seriously questioned – both in his capabilities as well as his loyalty to the clan.

"Hey, hey, Nii-san," said Sasuke. "Miho still ended up waking before you."

"…Was she hospitalized?" said Itachi.

"Mm. For just one night though – she ended up going home the next day. I think her dad's taking care of her there."

"She and Hiroki will be here soon," said Fugaku. "I've already notified them of your awakening – I thought it would be good for her to conduct the follow-up herself."

"That's not necessary; it would be just a hassle…"

"Nonsense," said Fugaku.

Just as if on cue, there was a knock at the door, followed shortly by Hiroki's entrance into the room.

"Ah, Hiroki. Good timing," said Fugaku. "…Is your daughter not with you?"

"Miho's still been working her shifts at the hospital despite her weakened condition. She had a night shift last night, so I insisted that she stay in to rest," replied Hiroki, directing his statement nearly accusingly at Itachi.

"…Is she feeling all right?" asked Itachi.

"I don't know," said Hiroki coolly. "It was her first time taking the Ishachi to the next level; I cannot be sure what degree her repercussions have amounted to."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," said Mikoto encouragingly. "It's phenomenal, her abilities. The doctors said they'd forgotten just how magical the Ishachi is."

"Let's also hope they don't forget the price it comes at," muttered Hiroki.

"Certainly not," assured Fugaku. "Miho's health will be taken into top consideration once she is properly adopted into the Uchiha culture…but that is a discussion for another time. Itachi, the clan elders would like to meet solely with you and Shisui tomorrow morning. Be ready by then."

Itachi could feel Hiroki's eyes still linger on him condemningly as he answered.

"I'll be there."

He half-wished that he had died. There was no point in accumulating only more guilt.

* * *

"And then, after that, the teacher said that I was doing really well in the class and that my shuriken throwing had gotten way better," said Sasuke enthusiastically. "Do you think so, Miho?"

Miho unconsciously smiled. "Yeah, it has. You improve fast."

Sasuke positively glowed at this quiet compliment and launched at rocket speed back into another detail-by-detail account of his class that day at the Academy.

Ever since Sasuke had helped her at the hospital, Miho had felt the antagonism for him decrease dramatically. The fact that he had been able to see past his dying brother and see her dilemma instead had been, for lack of a better word, touching. She also couldn't deny that Sasuke's clamor for attention reminded her strongly of herself, back in her Academy days when she had so obstinately demanded her father's praise. Sasuke, like herself, was overshadowed by Itachi, and Miho knew exactly how it felt to be neglected.

It had been a week since Itachi's discharge from the hospital. In that week, judging from Sasuke's daily "Life in the Uchiha Household" reports, Itachi had quietly turned fifteen, and Sasuke's seventh birthday was also quickly approaching. Sasuke had started spending a few moments each day with Miho, finding her a more receptive listener to his dramatic encounters at the Academy than his parents or his ever-missing brother.

"It's weird, though," said Sasuke, finally sitting down on a chair as he grew short of breath from his nonstop talking. "Nii-san's never around anymore…even on his birthday, he was only at dinner, then he had to go straight to the Hokage."

"He's busy," said Miho blandly. "Do you want some oranges?"

"Yes, please," said Sasuke politely. "But he's not _that_ busy…even Okaa-san and Otou-san said that it was abnormal."

"I don't know," said Miho, standing up from the table and making her way to the kitchen counter. "We don't really talk anymore."

"Why?"

"We feel…uncomfortable around each other."

"Does that mean you don't like him?"

"I don't know."

"…Does that mean you like him?"

"I don't know."

Sasuke frowned. "Don't you know _anything_?"

"Believe me, little Uchiha," said Miho wryly, "when you're around your brother, you start questioning everything you thought you did know."

"Then why'd you save him?"

"He was a patient."

"So you had to save him?"

"That's what doctors do," said Miho.

That was a lie. She had made it blatantly clear that she would only sacrifice herself for someone who mattered to her personally.

"Huh," mused Sasuke. "I would hate to be a doctor."

"Each to his own, Sasuke," she answered, placing a cleanly sliced orange in front of him. "Eat, and then go home and do your homework."

"Aw," he whined, "but it's boring at home and you can help me if I need it—"

"I'm not your babysitter," said Miho relentlessly. "Go home – I have my own homework to do too."

"But—"

"Don't bother Miho anymore than you already do, Sasuke," said a voice from behind Miho chidingly.

She whirled around, kitchen knife in hand, only to have it wrested from her instantly and to find herself inches away from Itachi as he removed his ANBU mask, revealing fully activated Sharingan.

"_Whoa_. Nii-san, that was _so cool_," gawked Sasuke.

"Where the hell did you come from?" snapped Miho, jerking back a few feet. "Why can't you just knock on the front door like a normal person?"

"Because your reactions are certainly less amusing if I do," said Itachi, though he hardly looked amused at the moment. "Sasuke, would you mind going home before me?"

"But…"

"I have something to talk to Miho about," said Itachi. "Please?"

"Fine," grumbled Sasuke. "You better do my homework with me later then."

"All right, I will."

"See you later, Miho."

"Bye," she deadpanned, steadily inching away from Itachi while the door shut behind Sasuke. The moment it did, she rounded on Itachi. "Just _what_ do you need, Uchiha?"

"I need to talk to you," said Itachi quietly.

"About what, Uchiha, because last time I wanted to talk, you certainly didn't want to—"

"Please, Miho."

Miho stopped upon seeing Itachi's expression.

He looked worn beyond his years, exhausted and twisted and slightly convoluted in a way that made her shudder. He collapsed in the seat in front of her, his hands massaging his head as he let out a drawn breath, quietly, almost desperately. Miho hesitated, and then approached him softly. Before she could sit down, however, he suddenly grabbed her hands, gripping them tightly in his and bringing them to the sides of his head.

"…Itachi?" she said, her voice unwillingly coming out as a whisper.

He didn't answer, simply rubbing her hands over his head rhythmically, as if doing so alleviated some terrible pressure in his mind.

"Itachi?" she said again, her voice stronger this time. "What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, slowly, and when he did, it was thankfully with his much more friendly black colored irises.

Regardless, Miho shuddered involuntarily. She could not help it. Because whatever she had been running unconsciously from, from any bad news that Itachi was hiding, she knew he was about to spill it all out now. That he had gotten to the breaking point and could no longer bear it all himself.

She gripped his hands tightly, accepting, waiting, with bated breath.

* * *

"…So you are saying that the Uchiha no longer trust you as fully as they did before," said the Sandaime slowly.

"Forgive me," said Itachi quietly. "It seems that I have not been checking my behavior around the elders, and, coupled with the fiasco of the last mission, my standing amongst them has dropped."

"Foolish," said Danzo coldly. "How can a prodigy possibly not know how to mask his emotions? Pathetic that they exist at all."

"Enough," said the Sandaime sternly. "It is fine, Itachi. Just be careful from now on – make sure not to stir up their suspicions any further. Is there anything else, other than what you have already relayed to us?"

Itachi hesistated. The village leaders sensed it.

"Tell us, Itachi," said the councilwoman.

"I have a reason to suspect that Uchiha Shisui is keeping tabs on me," said Itachi in a low voice.

"Your cousin? Shisui of the Body Flicker?"

"The same."

"Well, that's troublesome," mused the Sandaime. "He's…perceptive."

"Too perceptive," agreed the councilman.

"Throw him off as much as you can, Itachi," said the Sandaime. "Be especially careful now – we cannot have you be caught."

"I understand."

"Should you not be able to…" said the Sandaime slowly.

Itachi's heart lurched.

"Kill him," said Danzo coolly.

His heart convulsed. But the words were out of his mouth before he could possible take them back, or even meditate on them.

"I understand."

* * *

He'd left the Hokage's office in near delirium – his orders were to kill Shisui, to _kill _his cousin, to kill his best friend, the childhood friend with whom he'd completed so many missions with, the man who had just saved his life a week ago! Kill _Shisui_? Impossible. It was impossible.

This entire role was becoming impossible. He could not do it anymore, could not keep up the double-agent façade any longer – he wanted to pass on the role, let someone else take the burden, just as long as he didn't have to stare at his family at the dinner table thinking about the best way to kill them, didn't have to suffer under the orders of killing his best friend, didn't have to carry the sacrifices of the entire village and his clan.

He needed help. He needed someone to tell him what was right and wrong, someone to tell him what he needed to do, whom he should help, whom he should obey – he could not do this alone anymore, he could not do this at all.

Whom to go to? Whom to burden? Whom to condemn?

The answer came as naturally to him as his Sharingan.

Miho. Always Miho. Miho, with whom he shared some blind sort of chemistry, Miho, who was _right_ in safely assuming that she was the one who could read him best, Miho, who was so openly selfish and yet had taken the toll of his lethal wounds a week ago despite his desperate attempt to push her away.

She would know. She was impartial. She would know.

So as Itachi sat in her dining room, with her hands in his clamping his pounding temples, he decided to tell her. One step forward in the path to selfishness.

Time to share the burden.

**

* * *

**

**Free Talk**:

Soooooooo sorry for the long wait. Let's see...in the time since I last updated, I've been in college for a while (my first semester is almost finished! But not quite with finals growing ever uncomfortably closer). Needless to say, college has been _insanely_ busy. Whoever believes that college gives you infinite amounts of time is quite frankly wrong, because you could never be more pressured for time here.

I had quite a bit of this chapter typed up for a while but never had the time or energy to finish it. Only after a very nice review from a recent reader did I remember that I had most of this written up, so I thought I might as well finish it and give it to you all as a belated Thanksgiving present. So sorry for the wait, but I did make it a bit longer than normal, and I do hope you enjoy it.

There will be a livejournal entry soon~

As always, it'd be wonderful if you could leave a review. :) I really will try my utmost best to update as soon as I can.

xoxo,

m.n


	10. Close The Eyes

**Chapter 10: Close The Eyes**

He was trying to think of the right way to say it. No introduction? Perhaps that would be better.

He kept delaying it. They remained in silence as Itachi used Miho's hands to massage his head. Only a few seconds passed before Miho began the massage herself, rubbing his temples in a circular fashion to assuage the growing tension. This encouraging action comforted him.

"Miho—"

The door burst open and the two of them visibly jumped. Itachi stood up and pushed Miho back instinctively as his Sharingan activated to analyze the intruder.

"Itachi-kun," said Hiroki after a few seconds of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" said Itachi, for once faltering at his lack of explanation.

Miho stepped in.

"He just came to see Sasuke," she said. "Sasuke went home, and we ended up…chatting."

Hiroki looked skeptical. "Chatting?"

"Yeah…"

Hiroki didn't look convinced, but he did not press the subject. Instead, he turned to Itachi, his cold eyes clearly indicating that Itachi was not welcome, and beckoned for him to leave.

"Itachi-kun, I would like to speak with you about a few matters," said Hiroki sternly.

"We…" interjected Miho, "we were talking. Do you mind if we get a few more minutes?"

Hiroki arched an eyebrow. "Certainly."

Miho frowned. "Privately, Otou-san."

"What would be so important between you two that I can't hear?"

"It's nothing," said Itachi quietly, once again finding his voice. "I just came by…to thank Miho for helping me that day in the hospital. That was all."

Miho turned to him indignantly, sensing that Itachi was no longer going to reveal what he had intentionally planned. Before she could voice her opinion, however, Itachi was already at the exit.

"Itachi!" she said angrily.

"He was simply thanking you," said Hiroki. "I have a few matters to discuss with Itachi-kun, but I'll be back momentarily, Miho, and we can talk about your day at the hospital then."

"No, he was going to tell me something else before you came," said Miho furiously.

"What else would he have to say?" said her father, his voice growing with warning that was directed towards Itachi.

"Nothing," said Itachi calmly. "I just came to express my gratitude. Thank you, Miho. Have a good day."

Her gray eyes flashed but she held her tongue; the silence, however, only made the glaring eyes that bore into the back of Itachi's head ever more prominent as he left.

Itachi and Hiroki walked wordlessly for about a block or so before suddenly, Hiroki grabbed Itachi by the collar and dragged him swiftly into an alleyway, slamming him against the wall none too decorously.

"What were you about to tell her?" said Hiroki in a deadly tone.

"N-nothing," said Itachi, taken back by Hiroki's forcefulness.

"Don't lie," Hiroki said, his voice lined with latent fury. "If you care even the _slightest_ for Miho, don't you _dare _tell her anything that you're doing for the Uchiha. Why do you think I've been keeping her away from the clan? Why do you think I've been hiding her from your father? Are you a fool, Itachi?"

"I—"

"If you tell her anything, you will jeopardize her life! You will undo any protection I have orchestrated around her! Do not pretend, Itachi, that you have not been slipping up lately. Everyone can tell that you've changed – everyone _knows_ that this job is proving to be too much for you—"

"It's not," said Itachi instantly. "It's not too much—"

"Is it?" demanded Hiroki. "If it's not, then why are you going to my daughter? Why are you asking for her help?"

"I wasn't," said Itachi, his voice growing stronger. "I merely went to thank her – that was all."

"Really? Truly? Because what help could Miho offer you, Itachi, that you could not accomplish on your own?"

"I—"

"It's like you haven't noticed the degree of endangerment Miho is in when she's around you, Itachi – she activated her kekkei genkai when she was with you, she accelerated it to the next level to save you, and yet you act like you don't mind the amount of danger you've always put her in! Consideration, Itachi, is what I expect out of you in matters concerning my only child!"

"I'm not endangering her," said Itachi harshly. "I don't mean to. I never did."

Hiroki's glare didn't grow less intense, but he released Itachi's collar and stepped back, allowing Itachi to finally breathe freely.

"It would do you well, Itachi, to stay away from Miho," said Hiroki coldly. "Let this serve as your warning – if I see you close to her again, I will not be so kind."

It was the third time he'd said this today.

"…I understand."

* * *

She had come so close. So _damn_ close. Just when Itachi was finally going to tell her everything, _finally_ he was going to reveal his cards, show some _trust_…that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had just evaporated into thin air. Itachi had come to her in a time of extreme weakness, but Hiroki's interruption had given Itachi enough time to jolt back to his senses, to put all those protective barriers up around him again, and she'd lost her chance.

Miho threw her dish into the sink out of sheer frustration, shattering it to pieces.

"Miho!" said Hiroki's alarmed voice behind her.

"Slipped," she said through gritted teeth, gripping the counter in front of her tightly as she sought to find some sort of inner peace.

She swept up the glass shards and tossed them in the trashcan before she turned to her father.

"I'm going to go out for a walk," she announced.

"…It's already dark," said Hiroki dubiously.

"I'm not five years old," snapped Miho. "I just need to…clear my head."

Without another word, she swept out of the room and the house, greeted by the cool late evening air and the scents of oncoming rain. Ignoring the weather, she made her way down the stairs and on the empty street that led to the Uchiha compound. She broke into a run, gliding in the shadows of the walls and making her way to Itachi's house.

Her chakra fully suppressed, Miho leaned against the wall that held the window to Itachi's room and glanced up. The light was off, and, upon further inspection, his chakra was not there. Miho expanded her senses slightly and, with some difficulty, found his well-concealed chakra in the gated backyard. She leapt over the gates easily and hid herself behind the brambles of trees as her eyes scanned the yard. Itachi was leaning against the largest tree of the yard, facing away from her.

After checking to make sure that her chakra was completely hidden, she leapt agilely through the bushes towards him, finally arriving only a few feet behind him. Itachi made no movement to acknowledge her presence. Miho scowled and stepped towards him, her foot breaking a stray branch on the ground as she approached.

At the sound, Itachi instinctively whirled around, his Sharingan gleaming in the darkness, his fingers already folded in a seal.

"It's me," she said. "Surely you noticed?"

"…I was distracted," he said reservedly, his body visibly relaxing. "What are you doing here?"

"To find out what you were going to tell me before my father interrupted."

"It was nothing, Chiaki-san."

Miho scoffed. "Oh, it's back to 'Chiaki-san,' is it, _Uchiha_?" The surname was spat with loathing, causing the two gleaming crimson lights to narrow at the clear tone and its implications.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to stop acting like I'm an idiot," she said coldly. "I want you to stop treating me like some backup plan when life gets too hard, only to never confide in me and push me away in the end. I want you to actually _appreciate_ everything I've done for you, Uchiha Itachi, because no matter what you say, I have risked too much of my life not to hear a clear explanation."

"What do you want me to say, Miho?" said Itachi, audibly aggravated. "You want me to tell you all my troubles? Why? It would just make your life harder, wouldn't it? And _so selfish_ Miho couldn't deal with that, wouldn't want to deal with anything that makes her life all the more difficult—"

Miho reacted instantly, lunging forward and pushing Itachi as hard as she could against the tree. Surprisingly enough, Itachi didn't react.

"I have made it very clear to you," she snapped, "the things and people I am willing to risk my life for. And you, Itachi, may be a genius, but you sure as hell are dumb as a rock if you can't tell that at this point in time, you _are_ one of those people. No matter how hard I try, no matter what you do, that mentality's already there. What I'm asking for, Itachi, is an explanation of what you regard me as, some sign that you trust me like I trust you!"

"I can't tell you anything," he said pithily. "Clan rules."

She smacked him.

In a split second, she was slammed face forward into the ground, her hands pinned behind her back as Itachi indecorously sat on her, placing a kunai dangerously close to her throat.

"Ha," she spat, getting rid of the taste of dry leaves at the same time, "_still_ touchy."

"It was uncalled for," he snarled.

Miho laughed mirthlessly and snapped her leg upward; it barely blunted into Itachi's back before he jumped upward, releasing Miho. She was back on her feet immediately, catching Itachi's hand as he raced at her with a kunai; he was so angry that his chakra was painfully easy to sense, allowing Miho to read and anticipate for every move he was going to enact.

She wrested the kunai from him and caught the pulse at his wrist; she pressed it down harshly, causing Itachi to wince at the sudden chakra disruption. Not wasting any time, she kicked out at his stomach, her leg unkindly laced with chakra as it hit square in the middle of his torso. Itachi doubled over, winded from the impact.

"You're better than me," she said coolly, "but when you're angry, you become child's play. Still see me as an idiot?"

Itachi didn't answer, instead slowly breathing in and out as his chakra elevation declined and once again returned to its normal stages of excellent suppression. Miho's eyes narrowed, realizing that he was now at his normal degree of strength and consequently better, but before she could prepare herself, Itachi had caught her again, only this time without any malice, holding her instead in a tight embrace.

Miho took a step backward, taken back by his sudden change in demeanor. Seconds passed, one heartbeat at a time; slowly, Miho brought her hands up to return the hug, to convey some sort of acceptance, but before she could, Itachi suddenly snapped back, pushing her away as he himself stepped out of her reach.

"No," he said in one solid exhalation, almost like he was struggling for air. "No. This can't happen."

"Why?" she persisted.

"I promised," he said. "No more."

"Promised who?" cried Miho out of frustration. "Why the hell would you promise someone not to do something you want?"

"I can't," he breathed. "It'll…it'll jeopardize everything."

"Itachi, I don't know who you're working for or _what_ you're working for, but you're under this demented illusion that you have to obliterate any chance at happiness that you have! For once, why can't you think for yourself? Why can't you think _about_ yourself? You need to realize that there's nothing wrong with being happy, with working for what you want!"

"This is what I want," said Itachi harshly, with more conviction. "This…you can't be here. You have to go."

She stepped in front of him and grabbed his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Say that again," she said quietly, "to my face."

He struggled with the eye contact for a few seconds, his black irises flickering back and forth, from her eyes to elsewhere, as if he could not keep his gaze fixated. The hesitation was enough for her, enough to make her feel slightly better about his conviction, but it was not enough for Itachi to give up his resolution. And Miho had stepped past her boundaries by far already.

So she backed away, her gaze never leaving his face, just watching, waiting, for another sign.

But the loss of physical contact and the distance between them seemed to strengthen Itachi, for he finally met her eyes unwaveringly, confidently. She knew what he was going to say, this time with certainty, before he actually said it. She was not going to give him the chance to say to.

Without another word, she disappeared into the darkness. Her heart seemed to drop to her stomach.

Things were over. All ties were cut.

* * *

Weeks passed, sluggishly, stiflingly, slowly sliding into months. Within the time, Miho did not contact Itachi. If they bumped into each other in town, Itachi with Shisui, Miho alone, they passed each other with eyes averted. As if they had never known each other. As if nothing had ever happened.

They were young. Naïve. Itachi had not expected the relationship to get far. In fact, he had been surprised with how long that had gone at all. Two polar opposites could not have been more difficultly paired together.

Everyone had grown distant with him. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and he had grown distant with everyone else. Itachi could sense the apprehension that Fugaku approached him with, or the strange concern that Mikoto looked at him with over the dinner table. Only Sasuke seemed the same as before, always clamoring for Itachi to help him train and practice, but after constant denials, even Sasuke started approaching him less.

Itachi had initially been curious as to what his little brother was doing now with so much free time on his hands, considering that he was never in the Uchiha household before dinner. The answer to that curiosity, however, should've been obvious from the start. It seemed that Sasuke had found his replacement trainer – not as good as Itachi, but still more approachable than Fugaku – in Miho.

Itachi had found out in one of his "journal-reading sessions," as he liked to call his favorite pastime whenever he was struck by insomnia. Miho seemed to have started journaling a great deal more now, which Itachi was glad for, since it only provided him with more distractions. It let him know how she was doing, and apparently, it also allowed him to check up on Sasuke; Miho had lightly commented on Sasuke's improvement in one of her recent journal entries.

_Jeez, these Uchiha. Geniuses, all of them. I don't know what their dad is thinking, pouring so much effort into that recalcitrant firstborn of his. Sasuke's a genius in his own right – perhaps not as quick as his brother, but circumstances change. This kid improves like none other; I don't have to teach a single lesson twice. He actually beat me in our last kunai-throwing test, embarrassingly enough. But really, this kid is great. And just the slightest compliment sets him off like he's won first prize in some competition. I'm jealous, actually – here I was thinking that Sasuke was someone I could empathize with, in terms of difficulty with catching up to his brother, but Sasuke doesn't have any trouble at all. Just give him a few years. He'll be up to par in no time._

Other entries, however, were much less enjoyable to read. Some pages consisted of an entire blackened page of ink, with words repetitively written over each other in a never-ending cycle of letters. It looked like these were written in her moments of anger, for words like "stupid" and "idiot" were bolded and most prominent. Humorous to some degree though they were, Itachi could not help but wince whenever he came across such a page, especially when he knew exactly who the insults were directed to.

The more interesting and profound ones were the ones that were lengthy and ponderous, showing a side to Miho that was hard to discern otherwise. Whenever Itachi saw her on accident, she looked as she always did – aloof, eyes perhaps a bit colder than normal, but nevertheless, the same antisocial girl she had been before he had gotten to know her. Had it not been for the journal entries, he would've assumed that she had gotten over him entirely, especially given the long amount of time that had passed.

_This is…ridiculous. _I_ am ridiculous. It has been weeks now. We have not talked once. Sasuke is smart enough not to mention him around me. Not to talk about him. Smart enough not to tell him that I'm helping Sasuke out with his homework and his training, like a babysitter. _

_His impact is not small, which is why I can't just stop thinking about him. It's apparent, every morning when I wake up and take a shower, since the wound that I assimilated from him has left a faint criss-cross scar across my chest. I hadn't considered the physical mars I'd get from this part of the Ishachi, and in consultation with Aki's journals, it seems that it'll just take a long time and constant chakra-induced skin reparation to get rid of the scars. They, frankly, look gross._

_This is what I meant about appreciation. He doesn't know the things that I've done for him. I would have never, ever activated the second stage of my Ishachi had he not been dying. In fact, I wouldn't have become a doctor had it not been for him. I would've remained quietly in ANBU, remaining absolutely inglorious and on terrible terms with my father and still crushing on Kakashi and…_

_This is pathetic. How did it become _me_ appreciating _him_ all of a sudden?_

_I…my head hurts lately. Otou-san says it's because I've been working at the hospital too much, but it's really not too bad. He attributes it to lack of proper rest after the wound assimilation as well…though I think he might be emphasizing that just a bit too much lately. I have no idea why he is suddenly so antagonistic towards…_

_I should really stop reverting every train of thought back to him._

_I'm just tired, I think that's it. I just hope it's nothing more. _

_Why does it always seem that things were easier when we were still together?_

Because things _were_ easier when they were together, thought Itachi as he closed up the journal one afternoon as he lied on his bed at home and resealed it back into a scroll. Because when they were still flirting and eating together, Itachi didn't have the weight of the entire village on his shoulders. He didn't have the orders to kill Shisui looming over his head – orders that he had obstinately avoided for the last few months. But Shisui was getting too close to the truth, too suspicious of him…it had caused many fights and harsh interactions, causing their friendship to rupture…

And to think that there were scars left over from the wound assimilation…he hadn't known, or else he wouldn't have wanted it. Appreciation…he appreciated her more than he let on.

The door downstairs opened with a bang, its sound announcing the arrival of Sasuke, for only he would cause so much noise as he entered. There were the noises of violent running up the stairs that served as a preamble to only seconds before the door to Itachi's room slammed open, and Sasuke bounded up to him, his expression ecstatic.

"I did it, Nii-san!" said Sasuke. "I did it, I did it, we got our report cards back and I'm number one in _everything_. Do you think Otou-san will be proud? Do you think he'll acknowledge me as his son now?"

"Calm down, Sasuke," said Itachi with a slight smile. "Let me see."

Sasuke handed over his report card proudly; one cursory glance through it, and Itachi could see that Sasuke had indeed ranked first in all subjects. Itachi ruffled his little brother's hair gently.

"Congrats," he said. "I'm sure Otou-san will be extremely proud of you."

Sasuke beamed. "Great! Keep it a secret from them – I want to tell our parents myself. Other than you and Miho…" Sasuke's expression changed suddenly. "Oh, shoot, I forgot my lunchbox at her house…"

"Sasuke, don't you think you bother Miho too much?" said Itachi, unable to conceal an involuntary wince as she became their subject of conversation.

"I don't think so," said Sasuke innocently. "She says I bother her a lot and that she should get paid to be my babysitter, but I don't think she really means it. She seems really lonely sometimes."

"…Does she," said Itachi, his tone conveying no intention of continuing the conversation. Sasuke, however, was entirely oblivious to the warning.

"Mm," said the younger Uchiha. "I dunno, sometimes that masked jounin comes by to say hi and such, and her dad's home sometimes, but other than that, Miho's always alone. So I don't think she minds me too much." Sasuke stood up and headed for the exit. "I have to go back and see if she has my lunchbox, or else Okaa-san won't be too happy if she has to find me a replacement…"

"I'll walk with you in that direction," said Itachi, slipping into his shoes as he stood up as well. "I'm going to go buy some food and maybe train a bit…"

"Can I come too?" said Sasuke excitedly.

"Sasuke…"

"You always see me as a pest, Nii-san," said Sasuke, annoyed. "I'll be quiet – I just want to watch."

They walked down the stairs together and were at the front door. Itachi was mid-sentence in replying Sasuke's plea with a grudging "Fine," when Sasuke slid open the door, only to reveal a startled Miho at the front step, a bright blue lunchbox extended in front of her as if she were going to hang it on the door handle.

"Miho!" greeted Sasuke. "Hi!"

"You need to stop leaving your stuff at my house, Sasuke," she said. "Pretty soon, you're just going to end up living there."

"That's not true – I was just on my way back to pick it up."

Itachi found Miho's eyes unwillingly and awkwardness settled; Sasuke looked quickly between them, seeming to pick up on the cooler temperature that had invaded the atmosphere, and attempted to make up for it.

"Miho, Nii-san is going to go train," he said. "I'm going to go watch him – do you want to—"

"No," deadpanned Miho. "I merely meant to drop off your lunchbox – any interaction with the older Uchiha was involuntary and unwanted."

"Likewise, I was only heading out," said Itachi smoothly. "Any meeting between us was, of course, chance."

"I wouldn't say it like that, Uchiha," said Miho icily, "considering your stalkerish habits and your uncanny ability to 'accidentally bump' into me at the market—"

"Quite the contrary, Chiaki-san, I only happened to be getting food at the same time you did."

Miho's eyes narrowed but she made no movement to continue the argument. Itachi only blinked before she was gone from view – only in retrospect did he realize that her chakra had gotten to the point where he could only sense her if he knew what to look for.

"She's gotten really good, I think," said Sasuke after a slight pause.

"Has she," said Itachi, guiding Sasuke in the direction of the training grounds.

"Yeah, a lot faster," he replied. "I wonder if she's training too."

"I doubt it," said Itachi calmly. "I would assume it's just the effects of her kekkei genkai – her chakra flows much easier now, and she can utilize the barest minimum of it to accelerate or strengthen her limbs according to choice."

"Pretty cool," said Sasuke.

"Mm."

"Nii-san, you know it's her birthday the day after tomorrow, right?"

"…Is it?" said Itachi, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah. I saw it on her calendar."

"She didn't mention it to you?"

"Nope. But I don't think that means she forgot either."

Itachi paused before speaking again. "Are you going to get her anything?"

"I already did," grinned Sasuke. "Way ahead of you, Nii-san."

"Oh really? What did you get her?"

"A sack of potatoes," he laughed. "And a nice card with some chocolate. I thought the potatoes part was really funny."

"She might get angry."

"I don't think so," mused Sasuke. "Miho has a surprisingly good sense of humor, even though she doesn't show it too much. Besides," he added with a shrug, "it's funny. Are you going to get her anything?"

Itachi thought about it for a little bit, but the promise he had made to Hiroki surfaced to the forefront of his mind. And he had better things to take care of than birthday presents.

"No, I don't think I will."

* * *

If there were a way to forget, she would've done it. Some surgery, some medication…anything. She would've taken it all.

Miho got to her room in mere seconds and collapsed on her bed, her head pounding more than it had before as she struggled with the childish desire to scream into her pillow and cry. She needed closure, but didn't know if the last encounter had been enough. Was that it? Was that _all_?

There was a knock on her door; the chakra indicated that it was her father. The door creaked open without her assent, and Hiroki entered the room.

"Miho?" said Hiroki quietly, drawing near and sitting in a chair by the bed.

"Hello," she said, her voice muffled by her pillow.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"…My head hurts."

"Still?" he said, his voice dictating concern. "Should you go get a doctor to see it?"

"It's nothing. It's just a migraine – I'll eat some medicine later."

"Ah, all right. Make sure it doesn't escalate into something worse." He paused. "Miho, your birthday is the day after tomorrow, isn't it?'

"Mm."

Hiroki sighed. "Miho, I'm sorry…there's an Uchiha meeting that night, so I'm afraid we can't have a birthday dinner…"

Her heart twisted a bit, but she ignored it. "It's fine."

"I'll take you out to lunch, and then how about Kakashi and the others take you out for dinner? I can give them a heads-up."

"It's fine," repeated Miho, sitting up in bed. "Kakashi might drop off a present, but I think he'll be on a mission."

"Ah," said Hiroki, looking regretful. "Well, then…"

"It's not a big deal," said Miho wryly. "Birthdays happen every year, Otou-san. We always have next year."

"Mm, that's true," said Hiroki. "Already fifteen, eh? You grow so quickly…"

"…Otou-san, sorry, but can you cook tonight?" said Miho. "My head's really killing me…"

"Perhaps we really should get it checked out – it does not seem merely a common headache."

"I'm fine, I'll just need some sleep," said Miho. "I'm skipping dinner tonight, but there might be leftovers in the fridge to heat up—"

"We should eat together. I can wait until you're hungrier."

"…All right then," replied Miho, sensing that Hiroki wanted to eat dinner with her as a payment for missing her birthday. "I'll just take a short nap and eat after."

"Mm. Sleep well – if you don't feel better afterward, we'll have to see a doctor about it."

"Fine."

Hiroki left the room, shutting the door tightly behind him. Miho flipped over in her bed, but instead of diving under the covers, stretched out to her desk and grabbed a sheaf of paper and a pen. With a quiet sigh and her head throbbing more than ever, she began to write.

* * *

"What is your status regarding Uchiha Shisui?" demanded Danzou.

"He's…still keeping tabs on me," replied Itachi. "It is getting more difficult to arrange meetings with the Hokage without making it seem too abnormal."

"Has he been reporting to the upper echelon of the Uchiha?" asked the Hokage.

"Not that I know of," said Itachi.

"Yet," scoffed the councilman. "We've let Shisui stay alive for much too long – he will be reporting to the higher-ups any day now."

The Hokage looked uncomfortable with where the conversation was going, but made no effort to stop it.

"You must kill Shisui soon," said Danzou. "Before any of the other Uchiha notice the abnormalities."

So it was to come to an end. He had been trying to postpone this order for so long.

"I understand."

* * *

The crow appeared at Itachi's windowsill in the middle of the night, its beak clacking infuriatingly along the pane of glass as Itachi quickly rolled out of bed to meet it.

"…I didn't Summon you," he whispered as he recognized the female crow he always Summoned.

"I know," she replied musically. "It was the girl this time—strange, she usually doesn't Summon me but my brother—but she had something she wanted to give you. Perhaps that's why. Well…" The crow dropped a rolled up sheet of paper in Itachi's hands. "That's it, I suppose."

"Thank you," said Itachi. "Goodnight."

The crow disappeared with a soft puff of smoke, leaving Itachi alone in his room with a stream of moonlight illuminating the parcel in his hand. With a quiet exhalation, he unraveled it and began to read, unsure of what to expect.

_You should understand how much pride I am shelving to write to you._

_The day after tomorrow – well, that'd be tomorrow given the hour I'm sending this to you – I will be waiting on the bridge near the café. You know which café. If you don't, you're dumber than I thought and I am consequently wasting any time I have on you._

_I know there is a clan meeting. And I am telling you, for once in your life, to think about something other than your clan or whatever drives you to close up so quickly. You think I am being selfish. I am just being practical. _

_Skip the meeting, come meet me at the bridge. I want to talk. If you don't come, I'll take this as the final bit of closure I need for all this to end. I will move on, and forget everything that ever happened with you. I will pass you by and not blink twice. I am young, you are young, and we have the capabilities to forget everything that has happened. I just need to know if I really want to._

Itachi flipped the paper over but there was no continuation to the message. No signature, no address. It was obvious who it was from – even if he wasn't so familiar with that handwriting of hers, the use of the crows was unmistakable.

A funny twist in things, that the crows were the one things in personality that they shared. Everything else, every other aspect, they were just too different.

Logic dictated that he not go. That Miho was a part of his life that had died away a month ago. That if he were to get too close against, who knew what his orders were going to be next…to lie, betray, kill her…it was much too dangerous.

But…he could not helping thinking about those words. She would move on, forget. But did he want her to forget? Did he want to roam in the streets of Konoha, seeing her arm in arm with a faceless other?

In all honesty, why did that matter? What if he were no longer around Konoha? Did Miho's future matter to him that much, despite all lost chances of overlapping? Was a mere lost love more crucial than the imperative mission that lied in his hands?

Itachi crumpled up the paper and tossed it on the table. With another sigh, he collapsed onto his bed, his arms laying over his eyes.

The moment he had seen that crow, seen that Miho had contacted him, those lost sensations of peace and minimal happiness had come creeping back. Even after all this, after pushing her away so much, she still wondered. Still knew something was wrong, still tried to remedy things. And for the first time in so long, he began to wonder if there was still someone who would accept him despite everything he was doing to hurt his family, his clan, began to wonder if his life still had some sort of meaning when he was thought of. Would Miho still accept? Or would she run?

There was no need to debate with himself though. He had already made up his mind to go to the bridge.

* * *

"You should know what kind of day tomorrow is!" said Fugaku angrily. "Do you understand what your position is? How can you say that you won't go?"

"…I have a mission to do tomorrow," said Itachi quietly.

Mikoto looked distressed. "What mission, Itachi?"

"…It's a secret mission," he replied vaguely. "I can't say."

Fugaku seemed to be suppressing his anger with some difficulty.

"Itachi, you are the pipeline that connects the clan to the village. You must be a useful connection."

Good. Fugaku interpreted as a mission for the Hokage.

"Impress them well," continued Fugaku severely, "and report back."

Itachi did not answer, having picked up on Sasuke's miniscule chakra that lay outside the living room.

"Sasuke," called Itachi, "go to the bathroom and quickly go back to bed."

The door slid open guiltily as Sasuke's eyes peered out from the darkness.

"Okay…" he said reluctantly.

"Tsk, what are you doing this late?" scolded Fugaku. "Go to sleep!"

Itachi could feel Sasuke's chakra shift just a bit, and knew that his little brother was hurt. He sighed and stood up, walking to the door.

"Hurry up," said Itachi without malice. "I'll tuck you back in bed."

"…I didn't need to use the restroom," whispered Sasuke, looking somewhat frightened. "I just heard Otou-san's voice and…"

"It's fine," said Itachi. "Let's go back upstairs."

The two brothers ascended the stairs to Sasuke's room, the closer one to the stairs. Sasuke climbed back into his futon, looking upset.

"Otou-san always talks about you," said Sasuke resentfully. "Even when I showed him my report card…he didn't care. All he did was say that I had to be like you."

Itachi smiled gently. "Do you find me…unpleasant, Sasuke?"

Sasuke seemed shocked with the accusation, but after a few seconds of silence, his eyes lost their innocent surprise and instead shifted away in guilt.

Itachi chuckled. "It's okay. Shinobi live to be hated…it's normal. It's not too bad. But regardless…we're still brothers, you and I. In order to overcome our barriers, you and I have to continue living with each other. Even if it leads to you hating me…that's what being an elder brother is for."

"Nii-san…"

"Go to sleep, Sasuke. Don't worry about anything. Just rest for your day at the Academy tomorrow."

Itachi stood up and left, sliding the door shut quietly behind him. So he had long surmised that Sasuke's admiration would only last so long, soon to be supplanted by dislike and almost hatred. And hatred it would become, if Itachi were to actually enact what he was sure the Hokage would order him soon or later – the massacre of his entire clan.

An inevitable doomsday was slowly drawing closer like the undeniable shrouding darkness that enveloped all of Konoha as the night wore on. And yet, despite all the inescapability of his situation and everything it entailed, Itachi found that, upon close inspection, he still did not know what to expect.

* * *

The next day arrived, and Itachi remained out of the sight of his clan for the most part. He was hiding away in the forest, his chakra shielded and his Sharingan activated, as he simply whittled away his time, waiting for evening to draw near so he could meet Miho at the appointed time on the bridge. He had considered finding her at first, just so he could talk to her and still perhaps make the meeting, but he knew that she would immediately reject this alternative because it would defy her entire purpose of reconnection. And so somewhat impatiently, he waited.

Itachi hated staying alone. He could not stand the solitude, the creeping conscience of his that came prowling when he was surrounded by no object of focus, a nagging voice in his head that endlessly questioned everything that he had tried to resolve.

He was taking a short nap as his mind incessantly mulled over things that he precisely did not want to mull over when something cracked behind him. His eyes flew open, Sharingan swirling in all their crimson menace as he immediately stood up and guarded himself.

There was an orange-masked man standing in front of him, his chakra unfamiliar and expertly concealed. His attire was not native to Konoha, consisting of black robes decorated with red clouds.

There was a silence before either of them spoke.

"…To think that I would find one of my brethren here," said the stranger finally. "And one with his chakra impeccably undetectable, at that…"

"Who are you?" demanded Itachi.

"…You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Itachi moved first, his fist connecting with the stomach of the outsider easily, only to realize at the instant of contact that the man had evaporated into thin air.

Somewhat taken back and with growing wariness, Itachi spun around, Sharingan wildly searching for some sort of disturbance.

"No need to look far," said a voice to his right. "I'm here."

Itachi glanced in its direction; sure enough, the masked figure was leaning easily against the trunk of a thin tree, his arms crossed.

"Who are you?" said Itachi coolly.

"…Uchiha Madara," was the reply.

Itachi stared in disbelief, caught off guard by the entirely unexpected answer; he found himself unsure how to retaliate.

"Uchiha Madara is dead," he said reservedly. "Every Uchiha knows that – don't take me for a fool."

"You'd be a fool not to believe," said Madara. "Legend says that I am dead so Konoha could continue to live in peace – that the First Hokage killed me. I've returned…to prove that _I_ am the victor, and to destroy every bit of peace that Konoha has enjoyed for so long."

"And you think I'll just stand by?" said Itachi dryly.

Madara chuckled. "I've heard of you—your reputation is incredible. Uchiha Itachi, isn't it? Perhaps all your arrogance has given you a false sense of security—do you genuinely believe that you could kill me, founder of your clan?"

"…What do you aim to do?" said Itachi, ignoring the jibe.

"Oh, perhaps a little of this and a little of that. As long as Konoha's destroyed, I care not for the means. I was very close a few years ago—perhaps you remember the Kyuubi attack?"

Itachi's eyes widened in realization.

"_You_?" he said, stunned. "The leaders of Konoha suspected that it was controlled by Sharingan—do you know what the repercussions your actions have had on your clan?"

"Oh, I couldn't care less," said Madara with a shrug. "I resent my clan almost more than I resent Konoha, for betraying me and siding with that foolish Hokage…but if I could destroy one, I might as well destroy the one with the greater consequences."

"Don't do it," said Itachi harshly.

"And what could you do about it? You are but a child."

Itachi's mind whirred – everything about Madara's story made a twisted amount of sense. This man's technique was on a level that Itachi had never encountered, and the blatant confession of the Kyuubi attack – an issue that Itachi had long wondered about – was too radical for a mere poser to profess. To control the Kyuubi required an incredible amount of Sharingan ability; based on Itachi's readings, they would require Mangekyou, and perhaps the transplant as well in order to prevent blindness. In the history of the Uchiha, Itachi could not think of anyone else who could have possibly manipulated the Kyuubi.

So it was true.

Madara was back – back to endanger everything that Itachi was working so hard to protect. And yet…he saw loopholes around Madara's plans, a way to turn them so that they would correlate with Itachi's own, and Konoha would be saved.

"I have a proposition," said Itachi slowly.

Again, Madara chuckled. "And what would anything you have to say be of interest to me?"

"I wish to annihilate the Uchiha clan."

There was a silence after his words – clearly, they carried much weight.

"And why would you?" finally asked Madara.

"The clan has grown weak over the years," said Itachi coldly. "They clamor for power and yet produce no results for it – I am sick of being their lighthouse, their hope for the future…I cannot grow stronger with their traditional values chaining me down…I wish to test my mettle."

Again, a pause as Madara pondered his words.

"Big words for someone so young," he said. "You interest me…and yet, how much do you mean what you say?"

"You can judge for yourself," responded Itachi, expressionless. "My proposition is this: we annihilate the Uchiha clan together so you may exact your revenge, but leave the village alone."

"…Tempting," said Madara. "Unfortunately, I find it hard to believe you…I require proof that you are capable of killing your family. Prove to me that your bite is as good as your bark."

"What proof is necessary?"

"…Acquire the Mangekyou Sharingan," said Madara nearly gleefully. "The condition to acquire such a power, I'm sure you already know, is to kill your best friend…you know my implications, then?"

Itachi did not answer, but merely inclined his head.

"I see," said Madara. "Well then, I will remain in hiding for the time being…seek me out again when you have the same eyes as I…only then will we have something substantial to discuss."

Madara disappeared from his spot before Itachi had the opportunity to inquire anything further. Again, he was left alone, surrounded by nothing but the lilting branches and the gentle stir of wind and leaves.

The wheel was beginning to accelerate.

* * *

It was when Itachi reentered the village that everything began to go wrong.

The sky had just fallen dark; massive thunderstorm clouds began gathering into the atmosphere, hovering over Konoha like some ominous premonition.

He thought he had snuck in successfully, undetected, and was nearly at the bridge as the moon began to gleam just a little bit brighter when a figure materialized right in front of him without a notice.

The chakra was unmistakable, as was the speed alone.

"Shisui," said Itachi, surprised.

"Where have you been all day?" said Shisui quietly, his tone indicating no little threat.

Itachi chose his words carefully. "…On a mission."

"And where would you be going now?"

Itachi did not answer.

Shisui suddenly grabbed Itachi by the collar and shoved him against the wall; Shisui's chakra soared with rage as his voice reached a shout.

"Where have you been? Don't say you've been on a mission – I checked the records and there was no mission for you today! Don't take me for a fool—you don't think I've noticed everything you've been doing, all the sneaking around that's been occurring? Tell me the truth, Itachi, are you planning on betraying your family?"

"You're insane," said Itachi, winded by Shisui's abrupt change in demeanor. "Calm down – you're not thinking logically—"

"_I'm_ not thinking logically? I'm thinking the best for my family! For the people who've raised me, my own flesh and blood! And what are you doing? Sneaking off to the Hokage—are you telling them everything? Are you betraying us? Do you not care anything for the friends and family members you have?"

Itachi could not hold it in any longer—he let his fist fly at Shisui's accusation, the anger that he was so unfamiliar with surging through his veins as he felt his fist connect with Shisui's cheek.

His cousin reeled, taking a few steps back as he brought a hand up to his face; blood trickled down Shisui's lips as his eyes became pools of rapidly swirling crimson. Itachi activated his own Sharingan, no longer holding in his chakra as it began to course swiftly through his body.

"I don't care for my family?" said Itachi softly, his anger nonetheless apparent despite his quietness. "You think I don't care? Let me ask _you_, Shisui, what merit you see to be gained if we destroy Konoha, if we stage this coup that they want – the Uchiha is just a failing clan, Shisui, a clan that is so consumed by self-vengeance that we are all embarking on a road to destruction. Do you know how many women and children will die if we overthrow Konoha? How many families will be destroyed? It's only peaceful for a few measly years, Shisui, and you support the Uchiha decision to destroy all of that?"

"We are merely claiming what rightfully belongs to us," answered Shisui in a steely tone. "You, as the heir of the Uchiha, should know that. You should be supporting your family, no matter what, and if your pathetic affinity to this even more pitiable village is going to cause you to betray us…"

Shisui didn't finish his sentence; Itachi reacted instinctively as Shisui lashed out with a kunai aimed for his throat. Itachi caught Shisui's wrist, struggling to keep the kunai away, then finally twisting Shisui's arm completely as he leapt aside to avoid further interaction.

"No hesitation, Shisui?" remarked Itachi coolly. "You feel nothing as you cut me down?"

"I have no need to feel hesitation to cut down a traitor who feels nothing as he betrays his family," spat Shisui.

There was no more time for words. Their kunai and shuriken clanged together, resonating into the air with a sharp steel sound that could only mean death upon contact. Though he could not help the fury that incited him upon hearing Shisui's oblivious insults, Itachi could feel the cold sensation of dread claim him from the inside; with every exchanged blow came the pumps of adrenaline that would only bring him closer to killing his cousin, his best friend, the child he had grown up and who had saved him so many times…

Twice Itachi saw openings.

Twice he didn't strike for them.

He knew Shisui saw it too, saw that Itachi didn't want to kill him, for Shisui stopped momentarily right out of his striking distance.

"In case you haven't noticed," said Shisui, his familiar sarcastic drawl entering his tone, "I'm trying to kill you."

"I have noticed," replied Itachi calmly.

There was a slight pause, and Shisui's expression grew less hard for a moment.

"Why, Itachi?" he asked, a desperation for explanation apparent in his voice. "Why? Your family, the clan…our pride…"

"…I care nothing…" said Itachi gently, "for fame, for glory…for clan pride…I…"

He could not speak as his mind trailed to find the words necessary to iterate why he would betray his family, what he would go to such lengths for to protect…

He had a brief mental image, of some sunshine place, of some moment decades into the future; he could see himself old, wrinkly, laughing, hand-in-hand with someone, and his mind switched to thinking of Miho, who was waiting on the bridge, for an answer, for some closure…and he knew that it was over, that after what he would do tonight, there was no way she could ever accept, no way she could ever look at him…and he knew that the scene he so desperately wished for, of him, living a peaceful, quiet life, old and wrinkly he was, happy he was too…that scene would never happen for him. He was the sacrifice, the one who would provide that peaceful future to so many others…he felt jealousy sear him instantaneously, disappearing just as quickly when it was supplanted by a strange kind of calm, an omniscient mindset of serenity…

Itachi looked at Shisui, his eyes trailing over every feature on Shisui's face, memorizing the face of the first victim of his own beliefs, of their clan's folly…

"You what, Itachi?" said Shisui.

Shisui's guard was completely down. He was waiting for an answer.

And so Itachi moved forward effortlessly, catching Shisui off guard, a pathetic and inglorious thing to do, sinking his kunai deep into Shisui's chest, feeling the blood pool over his hands and, though repulsed, letting it run over his fingers, commemorating that guilt into his palms.

He heard Shisui cough slightly and wrenched the kunai further in, eliciting a dying gasp from his cousin.

"…Why?"

"…For peace," replied Itachi quietly. "For…for what is right."

Shisui drew in another shuddering breath before Itachi felt his body go limp in his arms, his corpse falling like a dead weight in his hands. Itachi knelt gently down into the grass, his hands cradling Shisui's shoulders as he stared at Shisui's face, his slightly agape mouth and his still-crimson eyes. And Itachi realized that he could never have hated the color red so much as he continued to look into those Sharingan, that he could have never hated his bloodline more as he felt the power flow unconsciously into his body, his eyes, that cursed, demented method to achieve a greater power…

But Itachi could do nothing but stare at his cousin's face, feel the warmth escape from his corpse, accelerated by the slowly falling rain that only claimed the warmth that Itachi was trying to save…to remember…as he continued to gaze down at Shisui's face, watching, never moving.

The rain seemed to be highlighted by the crimson color, but even that, the last signs of life in Shisui's face, died away slowly, melting into its natural black shade, glassy, not looking, unseeing, reflecting nothing but Itachi's own face, tortured, twisted, truly and completely lost.

* * *

**Free Talk:**

Hello! I hope I didn't leave people waiting too long. :) It was a bit difficult to write this chapter - considering how little I know about Shisui - and therefore character development was a bit more difficult than normal.

I think we can all tell that the pre-massacre arc will be ending very soon. The length of the chapters usually turn out a lot longer than I anticipate, but I'm hoping for a maximum of two chapters before the post-massacre arc begins. It makes me a bit sad, actually, because I will no longer have the degree of freedom I have when I fill in all the blanks of Itachi's past by myself. Following the story line is nice because it can help with plot, but many of the times, it's more of a hindrance than an aid.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's a lot more Itachi-focused than Miho, but hopefully that'll change in the next chapter. I don't know, sometimes it's just easier to write from Itachi's point of view...but we shall see. :)

Livejournal article up later~

I'll try to update soon! In the meantime, please leave a review. That would be very kind of you, and as always, is an incentive for me to keep writing.

Thanks for reading, and see you next time~

xoxo,

m.n


	11. Play Dumb and Blind Me

**Chapter 11: Play Dumb and Blind Me**

"Miho, are you all right?" said Hiroki's worried voice.

Miho opened her eyes drowsily. Her hair was still damp and she was shivering slightly under the covers—her weary mind immediately chastised her for being an utterly complete fool and not showering when she'd returned the night before. She didn't quite remember what time she'd come back last night; she just knew that she'd waited far past midnight, when the rain had grown from its erratic showers to a steady fall. Only when it had become a full-blown thunderstorm had it clicked in Miho's mind that Itachi wasn't going to come, hadn't been planning on coming at all, and that she was a stupid idiot who had been much too blinded by foolish trust to see the reality of her situation.

"Miho?"

She sat up, and her head throbbed painfully. She winced as the pain swelled then desisted to just a consistent pulse.

"You don't look well," he said. "We should go to the hospital—"

"No," croaked Miho. "It's fine. I'll just sleep at home…"

Hiroki looked uncertain and shifted on his feet—it looked like he wanted to tell her something.

"Something wrong, Otou-san?"

"No," he said after a moment's pause. "I…I have to go out for a bit to settle some business, but I hear Kakashi is back from his mission. I'll send him to check up on you."

"It's fine," said Miho. "I don't want to trouble him."

"Nonsense, he wasn't even here for your birthday."

Miho decided not to remind Hiroki that he hadn't been there either, nor had Itachi, but she decided not to vocalize her self-pity.

"It's fine…"

But just as she said the words, she caught Kakashi's surpressed chakra outside the house. Relief unconsciously filled her—she was glad that he had come, glad for his distraction. Kakashi always healed her ill moods because he always knew how to read her and react accordingly; perhaps he could even tell her what the hell was wrong with her head.

The doorbell rang, and Hiroki looked behind him.

"Hm, that Kakashi's gotten better again. I can't even sense him until he's right behind me now."

Miho didn't comment and instead lied back down on her bed as Hiroki exited the room. There were murmurs outside, and then Kakashi's chakra appeared right in front of her. She didn't bother looking up as he closed the door and sat down in a chair beside her.

He tousled her hair lightly.

"Feeling sick, Miho?"

She gave a noncommittal grunt in response.

"Happy birthday," said Kakashi easily, placing a tissue-wrapped gift in front of her. "You don't turn fifteen everyday."

Miho gave a wry smile and took the present in her hands.

"I don't know what's the big deal about birthdays," she said as she unwrapped it delicately. "They come every year."

"You should know better than that, having been in ANBU for a time," said Kakashi chidingly. "Death can come at any minute—we should appreciate the time we do have."

"So pessimistic and dark, senpai…" She admired the crystal-studded bracelet that lay against the tissue paper. "It's gorgeous…but I'd never wear it."

"You should eventually," he grinned. "You need to work on being a bit more feminine, you know."

"Yeah right. I'm going to be a nun," she muttered. "Forever and ever."

"Miho, just because things with Itachi didn't work out—"

"Don't even _mention_ his name," seethed Miho, tucking the bracelet over her wrist with unnecessary force. "Stupid. Asshole."

Kakashi looked a bit sympathetic, then slightly conflicted. Miho noticed.

"What is it?"

"Miho…your father didn't want me to tell you, but…you really shouldn't feel like that towards Itachi."

"Why?" she said, glaring darkly.

Kakashi sighed. "Your father wanted you to stay in so you didn't have to hear the news…but you're going to hear eventually so I don't see the harm in telling you already…"

Miho bolted upright. She could feel a sick swoop of fear in her stomach. "Did something happen to Uchiha?"

"Not to Itachi," said Kakashi, choosing his words carefully. "But his cousin…Shisui of the Body Flicker…he was found dead in the river this morning."

Miho's eyes widened.

"Someone…" she struggled to say the words, "killed him?"

"Not quite…" frowned Kakashi. "Or, that's what we're supposed to think…he apparently left a suicide note…the contents haven't been revealed, but rumor has it that he was growing tired of the Uchiha's 'path,' and that there was no future for it."

Miho didn't say anything, but her heart stopped beating for a second. That didn't sound like Shisui…on the other hand, it sounded suspiciously like someone else…

"Truthfully, I don't think he killed himself," said Kakashi. "I met Shisui for a few missions—there was nothing more important to him than the Uchiha. It doesn't seem plausible."

"What does Uchiha—Itachi, I mean, what does he have to do with it?"

Kakashi arched an eyebrow. "I thought you'd know. He's Shisui's cousin and the two of them were close—I thought he would be having a hard time of it."

In an effort to scramble out of bed, Miho fell out of it and onto the floor with a hard thump. Kakashi looked amused.

"Your coordination is severely lacking, Miho."

"Shut up," she snapped, standing up. "I'm going to go out for a bit, senpai—where's my dad?"

"He said he was going to meet with the Uchiha," said Kakashi cautiously. "You're going to head over as well?"

"I should…" she struggled to buckle the clasp to her weapons pouch on her belt, "probably go and…uh…pay my condolences…"

Kakashi looked highly skeptical, but did not press her for answers. She was grateful, and after bidding a quick goodbye and thank you to him, she left her room through the window, letting the chakra flow to her legs naturally and speeding up as went through the city.

When she got closer to the Uchiha compound though, she slowed to a walk as she began to question herself. Did she really care that much? Was Itachi's business…her business? The more she walked, the more hesitant she became. This was stupid. They hadn't spoken in months—and he hadn't been at the bridge either. He'd completely ignored her—clearly, she meant nothing to him.

But was that it? Perhaps he hadn't made it to the bridge because he had been tangled with whoever had killed Shisui—for even Miho knew that Shisui would never say that the Uchiha had no future—and therefore hadn't been able to make it.

Or…

Miho shuddered. The rumored suicide note that Kakashi had mentioned sounded vaguely like something Itachi would've said. He hated clan pride and held the superiority complex of the rest in high contempt. Perhaps Itachi and Shisui had clashed and then it had escalated into something much more terrible?

She shook her head. No. Itachi wouldn't kill someone he was so close to, no matter what the reasons.

But…Itachi had changed. Some parts of him just…just didn't seem normal lately.

Miho had been so absorbed in her thoughts that her feet had unconsciously carried her to the main street in front of Itachi's house. Four men were not far off, causing Miho to duck reflexively into the shadows of the wall. She could not hear them, but the chakra was easy to read, and it seemed that none of them were happy. One of them was definitely Itachi…his emotion was difficult to sense, but he seemed annoyed and angry…the other three were more visibly angry and…perhaps suspicious?

She inched closer and quietly, making sure to stay out of their line of sight so that she could eavesdrop in peace.

"Why don't you three just be direct?" said Itachi's voice coldly.

All four of their chakras shifted and drained; their Sharingan had activated.

For some reason, Itachi's seemed to drain more than it used to…perhaps he was tired.

"You suspect me, don't you?" said Itachi again, and his tone was burning with such intense dislike that Miho shuddered. This was the Itachi who had trapped her in a genjutsu out of frustration—this was an Itachi who could wound and maim without conscious.

But kill?

Miho didn't think so.

There was a swift movement, and Itachi stepped forward. The three men surrounding him simultaneously fell to the ground as Itachi straightened up slowly, his words carrying the heavy weights of one sorely vengeful.

"I told you already, do not judge people based on your preconceptions and judgments of their appearance. You assumed that I have patience…the clan, the clan…that's all you talk about. But here you are, having failed to measure your own capacity, having failed to accurately see the depth of mine…that is the reason you have been beaten."

Miho shuddered again. The atmosphere was so frigid that she would not have been surprised had Itachi's intense dislike solidified in real life.

"Shisui told us to keep an eye on you," one of the men said, trembling as he stood. "A year and a half after your entrance into ANBU, and you've changed so much…what the hell are you thinking, Itachi!"

"All you do is hold onto the name and pride of your clan…" said Itachi coolly. "Such things limit us and our capacities to be strong…such things should be cast away. It is foolish to fear what we've yet to see and know."

Miho had no idea what he was talking about—if anything, she sensed a strong disconnect in the entire conversation, as if Itachi were merely musing aloud instead of actually replying to his elders. She had heard that Itachi had gotten ruder and disrespectful to his clansmen, but she hadn't expected him to ever use such a tone. It frightened her, more than anything, but part of it aroused an insatiable curiosity. Was this the real Itachi? Was he finally showing his less-than-perfect sides?

"Stop it, Itachi," said a gruff voice, and Miho jolted from her hiding spot. It was Fugaku. "What in the world are you doing?"

Itachi didn't answer.

"You've been acting strangely lately…" said Fugaku. "Where were you last night?"

"…Carrying out my duty…"

"What do you mean?"

Itachi swiftly threw out his arm, and a kunai flew across the street and hit the center of the Uchiha crest that had been painted on the wall. It hit with such force that the fan cracked, and Miho could sense the air drop a few more degrees.

"I've lost all hope for this pathetic clan," said Itachi in a low voice. "You forget what is important to you as you cling to something so small and pitiful as your clan. True change cannot be made by laws and limitations, predictions and imagination."

"Such arrogance!" roared one of the older men. "Continue in such a manner and we will have to arrest you! Captain Fugaku! Order it!"

"Stop it, Nii-san!" a higher voice shouted, and Miho realized that in the face of the situation, she had completely neglected Sasuke's miniscule chakra from within the house. He must've been hiding away, just like she was.

Itachi seemed to have missed Sasuke's presence as well, for he stiffened at the sound of his younger brother's voice.

Itachi fell to his knees and bowed his head to the ground. Despite the gravity of the situation, Miho could not help but feel a wave of incredulity. What was he doing…

"It was not I who killed Shisui," said Itachi, his voice still low and muffled, "but for my words, I apologize deeply."

"Then where were you last night?"

Miho acted purely on impulse, without evaluating any consequences or reflecting on the stupidity of her action. She ran out, into view of everyone there, and intervened before Itachi replied.

"He was with me," she said in a rush.

All eyes turned to her, and if Miho was not so shocked with her own actions, she would've blushed crimson with the stupidity of her situation.

"Since when have you been here?" said one of the older Uchiha angrily. "If you've been snooping on police questioning, that's a crime—"

"You didn't even sense her," interjected Itachi as he stood up. His tone was politely courteous. "Of course she just arrived."

The Uchiha looked somewhat abashed at this obvious statement.

"Of course. What are you doing here, then?"

"I…" Miho thought quickly. Why was she here again? "I'm here to pay my condolences." She made a deep bow. "I'm sorry about…Shisui-san."

"A great loss," said Fugaku gravely. "Thank you for coming by despite your health—Hiroki mentioned you haven't been feeling well lately."

"I'm fine," said Miho, but at Fugaku's reminder, her head throbbed with renewed vigor. "I also wanted to come and…uh…apologize…for…detaining Itachi last night…I…er…."

"I understand that the two of you haven't been…communicating as much?" said Fugaku warily.

"He…Itachi has been busy, and so have I…so we haven't seen each other a lot…and," Miho had an epiphany, "yesterday was my birthday so I was upset when Itachi initially said that he wouldn't come because of a clan meeting so I said I wouldn't ever speak to him again if he didn't come so essentially I forced him to accompany me and miss the meeting."

She had never spoken so quickly, nor would she ever have admitted aloud that she actually did threaten the things she'd just said. She felt incredibly foolish as the adults looked at her, the officers with condescension, Fugaku with mixed sentiment and distrust.

"I see…" said one of the officers slowly. "I forgot about…teenage drama."

"To get in the way of such meetings…shows immaturity and lack of priorities."

Miho would've worked overtime for the rest of the month to prevent the burning sensation of humiliation from crawling up her cheeks.

"Very well," said Fugaku, cutting short her misery. "I will deal with Itachi accordingly, and I apologize for his actions. His ceaseless work at ANBU must have tired him."

"Fine…" said the officers grudgingly. "We will be back later."

Fugaku nodded in appreciation before turning to Itachi. The two of them exchanged glances and some sort of understanding, for Fugaku looked away shortly to Miho.

"I hope you understand that this must be the only time you detain Itachi from his shinobi duties," said Fugaku severely.

Miho bowed. "Yes, I apologize."

Fugaku nodded and retreated into the confines of his house, ushering Sasuke, who gave a frightened look to Miho and Itachi, along with him.

Now that it was just the two of them, alone and with all bouts of incoming awkwardness, Miho found her foolishness amplifying.

"You didn't have to interfere," said Itachi.

She was surprised to hear that his voice was no longer polite, but rather coarse and cold. It unsettled her, but she turned to him with a level gaze.

"You should be thanking me for saving your ass."

Itachi scoffed. "I never asked for it. You should not meddle in Uchiha affairs, Chiaki Miho. It will do you no good."

"Uchiha, Uchiha, Uchiha," she spat, her head searing with the hatred for his surname. "I didn't come here for your _Uchiha_ affairs. Life would be better if they didn't exist at all."

"Then what do you want?"

"I…" For once, Miho faltered. She did not know the answer to this question.

"I thought last night would've given you a rather clear message of our situation," said Itachi icily.

"Of course," she muttered. "Or, rather, that's what I'm supposed to believe, but let me speculate a bit here—you're the last person who saw Shisui before he died, weren't you?"

Alarm flashed across Itachi's face, disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Prove it," he said simply.

"I can't," she answered. "I'm just speculating. But judging from your reaction, I'm right."

"There was no reaction."

Miho snorted. "When are you going to stop pretending that I'm absolutely stupid? You can keep dodging things if you want like a coward, but I'll be upfront since you seem completely incapable of that—I came because I was worried about you, because you've been a bit unhinged lately and I was worried that Shisui's death would make you crack. Good to see that you're just an impassive, cold-hearted bastard in the face of that news though," she added coldly.

She would've said more, but it was already taking the maximum amount of self-control she had to not show how much her head was hurting her. Her vision was already beginning to blur hazily—the disruption caused her to grow alarmed with her condition that she had brushed aside before.

"…I would retort," said Itachi, "but you've alternated between a bright flush and a deathly pallor for the last few minutes of your tirade. Are you well?"

"Clearly not," she said under her breath, bringing a hand up to her forehead and rubbing it. "I really want to keep talking but—"

It was like her bodily center of gravity shifted because she suddenly felt like she was leaning over the edge of a cliff—she stumbled backward but found that her legs could no longer support her. Itachi caught her around the waist, but before she could voice her distaste, her head swirled and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she was out like a light.

* * *

Itachi did not know why he still did such things for Chiaki Miho. Why he ignored his own mental warnings as, upon Miho's collapse, he immediately brought her to the outskirts of the village, knowing instantly that the last place she wanted to go to was the hospital. Why he couldn't seem to shake her off when he should—why he wet a scrap of cloth and placed it on her burning forehead and tried to reduce her body temperature using soothing chakra to try and seek out the source of her fever. Why he could not stop feeling so incredibly relieved that she had stood up for him when she truly had no idea what he was capable of.

Half an hour passed as Itachi stood there, on guard in case others approached, but torn between leaving her there or taking her to the hospital. She stirred just as he was about to pick her up and leave her at the hospital, causing him to pause.

"…Are you awake?" he inquired cautiously.

Miho opened her eyes blearily. It seemed that her headache had alleviated, but she winced as she sat up and looked around.

"I faint," she said dully, "and you bring me into the forest instead of the hospital."

"I assumed that was the last place you would want me to take you to," he answered simply.

"And since when have you ever taken into consideration what I want?" she retorted.

This hadn't occurred to Itachi, for his eyes lit up briefly before assuming their ever indifferent lackluster nature.

"What is the cause of your fever?" he questioned. "Have you been overworking? Trying to forget me? Or is it also because you waited in the rain last night on the bridge?"

Miho's eyes flickered in assent. The pang of guilt in him was only minimal—Shisui's blood was still fresh on his hands, as well as the eternal weight that had settled in his chest.

"You are a fool to believe I would've abandoned my duties for you," he said coolly.

"Oh, but you weren't exactly doing your duties, were you?" she said sarcastically. "May I speculate again, oh-great-Uchiha? Didn't you plan on meeting me last night, only to have Shisui-san stop you?"

His face remained the same, but he could not stop himself from stiffening. Did she know? Then why had she intervened?

"And you didn't come because Shisui-san reminded you that you were wrong, that you should've been at the meaning, that you should've never forgotten your duty. Did he kill himself to make the point, Itachi?" she said.

Here, he paused.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me," she said quietly. "Did he kill himself in front of you? Are you forever bound to the Uchiha now, knowing that your best friend would kill himself to make sure you stayed?"

It was starting to dawn on Itachi just what Miho had mistakenly assumed.

"You," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "don't believe I killed Shisui?"

She glared at him. "How long are you going to pretend that I'm stupid?"

"The others thought I did."

Her gaze softened, almost unwillingly, as she looked determinedly away from him before speaking again.

"You're not that kind of person," she said very, very softly.

The irony of it all. She was the sharpest girl he knew, perhaps the one that he was most frightened of finding out the truth…

Blinded.

She was just like the rest of them, only the opposite. Blinded by her own assumptions, by her own analysis and judgments of his persona. Believing obstinately, adamantly, self-destructively that he was still the same, kind person that she had admitted she liked so long ago. Still the same Itachi who had planned to meet her that night on the bridge.

"Do you think so?" he heard himself saying, his voice colder than he wanted it to be.

Miho's gaze met his again, and it was sharply wary. He spotted a sign that she did not quite believe what she had said seconds ago either.

Of course. She wasn't that stupid.

"Why would Shisui kill himself?" Itachi scoffed. "You've met Shisui. Do you really think he would kill himself to make me stay? Don't you think…" He bent down next to her and tilted her chin up, their faces so close that their breaths mingled, "he'd try to kill me instead?"

Miho pushed back immediately, and Itachi noted with satisfaction that she really had gotten much better than the last time he'd actually crossed paths with her. Every exertion of chakra was precise and sharp; she skidded to a stop a few feet away from him, her gray eyes flashing as she stood up, her chakra already suppressed again.

"I am not the one trying to pretend you are stupid, Chiaki Miho. You're very clearly the one deluding herself. You know already—Shisui would never commit suicide. I—"

"Why?" she said.

The inquiry, for some reason, unsettled him. He was unsure as to why.

"That is a question I'm not bound to answer."

"Why?" she said again.

He realized why it was so strange this time.

She was not angry. She did not ask it out of fury, out of anxiety and panic, out of disbelief like she should have.

No, she asked calmly. Persistently. And in her stony face was a shade of…worry.

He could feel unreasonable anger rage inside of him—why was she worried? Why did she not turn her back and run? If she knew already that Shisui had died by his hands, she should have also realized the extent of his capabilities—she was in _danger_, he could kill her because there was no way she stood a fighting chance against him—why did she not run?

"Go away, Chiaki Miho," he said harshly. "Go away, go tend to your fever and keep your end of your threat—walk by me and don't blink twice. Forget it. Forget it all."

"Uchiha—"

"Don't!" he said angrily, uncontrollably, because he could not stand the way Miho would prod and poke at Shisui's death like it was an open wound inside of him that was barely sealing—he could not stand her being close because then it would never disappear—he could not stand her inquiry, the way she said his clan name like it was _his_ name, no, he wanted nothing to do with it, with the Uchiha, with his actions, with having killed Shisui and acting like he did not care—

"Don't what?" she said.

He could not reply—a hazy red had clouded his eyes and all of a sudden, all he could see was Shisui's deadened eyes, his slightly agape mouth and the pelting raindrops and the pain and the blood and the grief—

A warmth enveloped him as Miho bent down and embraced him gently, wearily, because she had been right in the end, that Shisui's death _had_ make him crack, but Miho couldn't know that, _shouldn't_ know that or else she knew too much—

But she knew, and didn't care, and wanted to know more, but stopped asking, and instead Itachi was left with her arms around him and his grief and escaping tears and his trembling arms that could not help but hold her back because in the end he was still a child in her arms, wishing she was his mother instead but knowing that only Miho could blindly accept at this point because he had betrayed his family and that was just it, he had killed Shisui, and now he was lost, alone, unhinged, and desperate.

* * *

It looked like the rest of the world had turned against Itachi. And to the rest of the world, he had become unbearably cold, distant, suspicious. So Miho did not quite understand.

Why did she still support him? Still worry about him?

Her father warned her against him—"Do not associate with Itachi. There is something wrong with that boy. He does not trust you, Miho, he does not trust anyone. He will push you away if you seek him out, and I don't want you getting hurt."

But he did not try to push her away like he did before—_he_ sought _her_ out, even, when he seemed weary and frustrated with something she dared not ask about. Instead, he would wait for her patiently after her shift in the hospital and then drag her away, far away from the chattering of Konoha and into the clearings behind the forest, a fair distance away from the village. There, they would simply sit in silence, sometimes holding hands when Itachi seemed to need it, other times talking about little things, and never mentioning the Uchiha or Shisui. Miho never bothered to ask where their relationship stood. It seemed like a stupid idea.

"Miho?" he said one day, his voice raspy.

"Mm?" She had been toying with a blade of grass.

"I meant to tell you happy birthday, that day."

"…I know."

Itachi chuckled wearily and rolled on his side to face her.

"Why do you always know?" he said. "You always seem to."

It took her a moment to answer.

"Lately…" she said haltingly, "I seem to be able to read things well. People. Chakra flow. Emotions. It's…it helps me speculate. But…" She let out a breath, "it's all overwhelming. Sometimes I feel things from people that makes me just…exhausted."

He sat up, his dark eyes showing concern.

"I can feel it too," he said honestly. "You seem tired all the time. Don't you think it's because of your kekkei genkai?"

Miho blinked. "I never really thought about it that way. I just assumed it was because I've been working twelve hour shifts."

"No, I'm rather certain it's your bloodline," he said confidently. "I've been thinking about it since you collapsed that…one day. You…you say feeling people's emotions makes you feel overwhelmed. I think it's because you haven't been able to filter when you want to use your ability or not. It just…happens."

"But…"

"You should train a bit," he said, lying back down on the grass. "Just practice a little—it'll make you feel better."

Without another word, he closed his eyes, welcoming the breezes that enveloped them as his mind clearly went elsewhere far away from her, and she was the one clinging on to him.

* * *

_Practice. Of course it's his solution—his answers have generally always come down to the motto of "Practice makes perfect." _

_In all honesty though, I do not care for practicing. I do not care for this exhaustion. If it means that I can understand him just a little bit better, I don't mind it. _

_I don't think he quite understands, really, just what it means to understand someone. He understands me—I believe I'm rather straightforward, and even though the normal person can't understand all my nooks and crannies, of course he can. He's always been that way. _

_But in my situation, it's not the same. He started off as someone I utterly hated and despised and then became someone I became comfortable around and would actually do things for. I did my first wound assimilation on him, and then I realized that perhaps we had changed, perhaps I had changed, and that he was…is…someone I…I think I really care for. _

She wrote these words so small that Itachi nearly had to activate his Sharingan to read it.

_I can't understand him fully, and some things I will never be able to know unless he tells me them himself. But I…_

_It's strange. How everyone is so convicted that he killed Shisui? No proof…and yet, no questions. _

_The body had no marks. And he has no motive. _

_Only I know. Only I know for certain that he was the one who killed Shisui. And yet…yet I'm not frightened. I'm curious. I'm worried instead. Why did he do it? He hates killing. He hates it—I know that much. So why? Why would he do it when he is clearly in pain now, when…_

_I don't think I'll ever forget it, what happened that day. I have never seen him so inconsolable, so…un-composed. Not him. He's always been one for farces and facades of perfection…I think that was one of the first times he had actually broken down any defenses he had and seemed…vulnerable. Unsure. _

_It makes me laugh, actually. How his own relatives can be so convicted of his guilt when they can't even see his own inconsolable grief. They can't see his own lack of conviction._

_I'm worried, though. What is he doing? Why did he kill Shisui? _

_I don't know. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I want the answers. I just want things to remain as they are. Him seeking me out. The silences. The comfort. _

_The fights with Otou-san are almost worth it._

* * *

"You're fighting with Hiroki-sensei again?" queried Itachi nonchalantly one day.

Miho looked at him, surprised. "How…"

"I sometimes pass by your house to find you, but Hiroki-sensei's chakra is easy enough to read."

Miho did not even bother chastising him for his stalker-ish tendencies.

"He's just being…very judgmental," she said lamely.

Itachi gave a crooked smile. "Is it about me?"

"…Yeah."

"Why, exactly, do you still consent to be around me, Miho?"

Miho shrugged, evidently uncomfortable. "Because I think they're missing something."

"Or is it because you like me?"

Miho's expression grew sour. "Don't kid yourself, Itachi."

She never called him by his surname anymore. It had become taboo.

"Am I worth it?" he asked.

She didn't reply for a long time.

"Am I?" he persisted, a little more seriously.

A quick nod.

_I can't let this continue_, he thought.

But he was already feeling the little bouts of redemption that Miho always gave him unconsciously seep into his chest. And then their fingers were entwined.

* * *

"What is this?"

"A bracelet. Kakashi-senpai gave it to me for my birthday."

"Oh."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I can read you, you know."

"…Take it off."

"Are you going to give me one to replace it?"

"No."

"Then I'm leaving it on."

"No."

"Is that all you can say?"

"No."

"Give me a replacement."

"No."

* * *

_I got a necklace from hims today. He has the same one. It has the pinwheel of the Sharingan on it. _

_It seems like he can't let them go. And he wants to make sure I won't let him go either._

* * *

"I see…" said the Hokage gravely. "They suspect you."

"Yes."

"…I am sorry to have made you kill your cousin—"

"That's not the point," said Danzou impatiently. "The Uchiha are getting out of hand—without any insight into their dealings, there is no time to lose. We must get rid of them immediately."

Itachi felt his blood run cold, even though he had been anticipating this for so long already.

"When?" said Itachi unemotionally.

"At your leisure," said Danzou, "but as soon as you find the opportunity, strike."

At his leisure.

He could kill his family at his leisure.

He hated them all.

"A quick note," said the aged councilwoman. "I have noticed an issue of importance."

The Hokage nodded in her direction.

"Speak."

"Chiaki Hiroki…it has not escaped my notice that he is intimately included in the Uchiha community. What does he know?"

Itachi's mouth had gone dry.

"Everything," he answered.

"Then dispose of him as well," she said.

"Doesn't he have a daughter?" said the councilman curiously.

"She doesn't know anything," Itachi said instantly.

There was a silence as they all looked at him.

"Are you sure?" said Danzou seriously. "Her father may have conveyed some of the Uchiha's intentions…we cannot take risks."

They were all nodding now, except for the Hokage.

"We cannot take risks," repeated Danzou. "Dispose of her as well."

* * *

"Well, it's been a while," said Madara. "I would've thought you'd given up."

Itachi said nothing.

"Well?" said the elder Uchiha. "Show me them. Your eyes."

He closed them and then reopened them with a snap—the pinwheel design was already spinning against the bloody red, a testament to his crime and his newfound power.

He heard Madara let out a sigh.

"Beautiful," he said. "I see you've stayed true to your word. And in return…" Madara chuckled gleefully, "you will have my assistance as we ruin our clan."

He was a sick bastard.

"You should know, though," continued Madara, "I like to keep tabs on you. And I can't help but be curious…what about that girl?"

Itachi's breath hitched.

"What girl?" he said monotonously.

"Don't play dumb, Itachi. The Ishachi girl."

"How did you know she had the Ishachi—"

"Hiding chakra like that is not common, boy. Back when they were at the peak of their strength, the Ishachi were formidable opponents—healers, sensors, infiltrators. The best of the best could not only hide their chakra but disguise it—it's a skill I learned from them."

Itachi did not say anything.

"I see she and her father are rather closely affiliated with the clan. Shall we kill her and her father as well?"

"Leave them," said Itachi harshly. "They're mine."

"For the killing?"

One swift nod. Madara chuckled again.

"Very well, I'll leave them to you. Let our planning commence."

* * *

"Nii-san," said Sasuke's voice from behind.

Itachi still could not help but stiffen at the sound of his little brother.

"Can you help me with shuriken practice today?" Sasuke asked.

"…Not today, Sasuke," replied Itachi. "Ask Otou-san."

He heard Sasuke let out an angry little pout and could not help but smile at the immature sound.

"No, everyone knows that you're the best," said Sasuke. "I don't want to bother him anyway."

Itachi turned around and beckoned for Sasuke to come closer. Mistaking Itachi's intention, Sasuke's face grew elated and he ran over quickly, expectantly—

Itachi poked him lightly on the head, a familiar action, teasing and kind.

"Sorry, Sasuke," he said quietly. "Not today."

He couldn't do this.

* * *

"Are you all right?" Miho said.

Itachi nodded wordlessly.

"All right then," she said uncertainly. "I promised your brother that I'd help him with his shuriken practice after I finish—can you wait until after that?"

Another nod.

"Look," said Miho irritably, "will you at least tell me what's wrong? You're such a stoic little ass—I can never do anything to help you—"

"Sorry," he said suddenly.

Miho looked at him, her irritation still evident but lessened.

"It's fine," she sighed. "Here."

She handed him a wrapped box.

"It's dinner," she said to his confused face. "You know, in case you're _hungry_? And stop eating those food pills—those are for _emergencies_, idiot."

The necklace glistened at her neck. He wished he could have taken it back.

* * *

"Miho, for the last time, stop meeting with Itachi—"

"I'm not!" she said, aggravated. "I'm meeting with Sasuke!"

Hiroki looked at her, startled.

"Oh. Why?"

"Because he's been neglected by Itachi and he's upset," sighed Miho. "I promised I would help him out a bit with shuriken practice—I've been busy at the hospital and it's been hard to meet up with him. I finally had some free time today."

"All right," said Hiroki, clearly still dubious.

Miho gave another sigh and turned to her father. He looked worn out; the wrinkles on his face had multiplied and deepened, and Miho felt a pang of guilt. Their fights lately were nothing on the scale of before, but still…it left an uneasy feeling in her stomach, especially when she saw that her father had indeed grown old without her looking.

"Otou-san…you should rest some more."

"Are you thinking I look old?" he chuckled. "You are already fifteen—time passes quickly."

"…I wish you wouldn't spend so much time at the Uchiha compound. You always return so late from their meetings—and you're always so drained too."

"It's nothing, Miho. Don't worry about it."

"All the same…"

Hiroki chuckled again and patted her head lightly.

"Miho, Sasuke is a child. Don't be too hard on him."

"I'm not hard on him."

"And…and I'm sorry for what happened with Itachi."

Her stomach lurched. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Hiroki exhaled, his face looking more exhausted than before.

"I had high hopes and expectations for that boy," he said softly, more to himself than to Miho. "It's a pity…"

"What are you talking about?" she said.

Hiroki jolted out of his train of thought. "It's nothing, Miho. Just be careful…and don't trust Itachi."

His warning was lost on her. She fingered her necklace, knowing that Hiroki was wrong.

* * *

"I'm…so tired," yawned Miho as she and Sasuke trudged back to the Uchiha compound.

"You need to train more," said Sasuke wisely.

"Shut up, kid. I just worked twelve hours at the hospital while you probably slept through most of school."

"I did not! I paid attention so I can get good grades!"

Night had already fallen with its company of cool winds and the hooting of owls. The moon shone brightly over the village, innocent and twinkling.

"Did you get good grades at the Academy, Miho?" said Sasuke inquisitively.

She shrugged. "I was as good as I could be…top of my class."

"Really?"

"What's with the tone of surprise?" she scowled.

"I always thought Nii-san was…"

Miho snorted. "Your brother wasn't even _in_ my class, Sasuke. He graduated years before I did."

"Oh." Sasuke fell silent for a moment. "Miho, do you think there's something…" He changed the direction of his sentence. "My brother's the same, isn't he? He still doesn't agree to train me, he always ignores me and just makes fun of me if I need help…nothing's changed, has it?"

Miho didn't reply immediately.

"No," she said finally. The words of one who refused to see the truth. "I don't think Itachi's changed that much. I think he's just…a little misunderstood."

Though her words sounded vacant and half-hearted even to herself, Sasuke seemed satisfied with it. As the two of them approached the compound, though, Miho felt a shiver run through her.

"Are you cold, Sasuke?" she queried.

He shrugged, but she could tell that he was ill at ease.

"I think I'm okay…but don't you feel…"

Miho abruptly sensed someone's chakra near them and she whirled around, grabbing Sasuke in the meantime and holding him behind her. There was no one behind them, and so she turned her gaze upward. Something caught the corner of her vision and she swung back around, scanning the sky for the dark profile she could've sworn she'd seen. But the sky was empty, and there was nothing on the light pole that was impaled against the surface of brightly lit moon.

"Let's go home," said Sasuke, and his voice was shaky.

"I'll send you home then."

"No, it's fine," he said. "I can take care of myself."

"Sasuke," she said urgently.

"Don't baby me, Miho," he said, and this time, he sounded annoyed. "I got it—when Nii-san was my age, he'd already activated his Sharingan and could do all sorts of stuff to take care of himself. No one babied him then."

Miho threw up her hands.

"Obnoxious and ungrateful, that's what you are," she said. "Fine, little Sasuke, I'll see you tomorrow."

She left Sasuke and headed home. There was something strange about the Uchiha compound, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was; after all, she thought that she'd seen lights on inside, and the Uchiha households were one of the best guarded in the village.

Still, she was unable to shake off the feeling that something was odd. Miho kept her chakra fully suppressed as she dove into the darkness of the alleyways, cautious to keep her movements swift and smooth; she could not pinpoint what to expect, and could not prevent her heartbeat from accelerating out of sheer anxiety.

Only when she was in the safe confines of her home did she let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps her nerves were getting the better of her. And though her headaches had gotten slightly better, Miho knew that she was still not in the best health; she was getting rather jittery.

She walked into the kitchen, surprised to find no dirty dishes in the sink, and not even the slightest aroma of the food that she had prepared for Hiroki earlier.

Maybe he was at a meeting.

But the emptiness was alarming. Her eyes swung to the clock on the wall; it was late, and Hiroki would've sent word if the meeting was going to go on for later.

It suddenly hit her, what had seemed so strange about the Uchiha compound.

She had sensed no chakra.

This realization nearly made her scream—she dove out the door, chakra flowing to her legs in such a rhythmic motion that every step was faster than the first. She was so stupid—how could she not have noticed that there was no chakra? She had been inundated by everyone's emotions wherever she went—she should've noticed immediately—but training with Sasuke had proved to be isolating, and she hadn't thought to check…

Her blood chilled as she began to think about "what-if" situations—where was Hiroki? Wasn't he at the Uchiha? What if…what if something had gone wrong?

And…

_Sasuke._

She bolted through the streets and skidded into through the gates that blocked off the Uchiha residencies—they were slightly ajar, and she stopped upon seeing what was on the ground.

Blood and lifeless bodies were sprawled on the ground like marionettes with their strings cut; Miho looked wildly around, willing for her chakra to remain under control with her heartbeat as she tried to sense.

No one was alive in her vicinity; she moved forward, trying to remain as quiet as possible, her eyes avoiding the corpses that dragged her attention to them. She thought vaguely for a moment to get the police—but the Uchiha _were_ the police force—and she could only think of little Sasuke and her dad and…her stomach felt sick. Where was Itachi? Why…he had been acting strange, even by her standards, earlier…what if…

And then she sensed him—Hiroki. She stopped where she was as she concentrated—he was in the house to her right, a large, traditionally built house that seemed like a meeting place; she slid open the door, relieved because she couldn't sense anyone else there—

"Otou-san!" she said in excited relief as she stared in.

But Hiroki wasn't alone.

He turned to look at her, his aged face wide with surprise and fear—she had never seen Hiroki frightened before—but so did the man who held a blade to Hiroki's throat. It was a masked man, but as her eyes grew more accustomed to the dim lighting, she realized that it was a familiar mask, a mask that…that she knew very well—

"_Leave!_" screamed Hiroki. "_Run, Miho_!"

But the masked man did the impossible, he turned his attention back to Hiroki and then the silver sword slid quickly and effortlessly, and then before she knew it, blood had covered Hiroki's throat and her father fell to the ground with a gurgle of agony—and then there was a final twitch, and he laid there, still, his eyes still wide open from panic upon seeing his daughter, from staring at death in the form of a weasel mask—

Miho could not find the words to speak. She did not have the energy. She did not have the mental processing capability. She stood there, dumbly, staring at her father's body that now had a pool of blood coagulating around his head; she did not feel, she did not think, she did not process anything—

The masked man walked towards her, but Miho did not take a step backward. Her feet were rooted rigidly to the ground; was she shaking? Was that it? Because suddenly, this man's killing intent rose so drastically that it was all she could do not to break out crying—he was going to kill her, he was going to slit her throat just like he did to Hiroki and she could do nothing to defend herself because she was useless, because her feet wouldn't run and her hands would move and her brain wouldn't work—

But the man passed by her, just walked out of the room calmly, without even looking in her direction.

His footsteps pounded in her head like a hammer on a nail, incessantly, painfully, as he just brushed against her and continued on his demented way, his sword gripped in his hand, its tip still dripping her father's blood on the ground—

And then she got it. The smallest speck. The barest flicker. But she recognized it.

It was Itachi's chakra behind her.

And in her rose an uncontrollable fury, a fury that was fueled by fear and panic but mostly by the roar of betrayal that was climbing inside of her—she spun around and before she even could process what she had done, she had punched him as hard as he could across the face, cracking the mask, drawing blood on her knuckles—he spiraled but not to the ground, caught off guard but recovered himself as he withdrew a few feet—but Miho was unstoppable at this point, she didn't bother saving her chakra but expended as she wished, wanting to inflict as much bodily pain upon that bearer of the weasel mask—

"_Itachi_!"

The name came out as a twisted, terrible, agonized screech; she could see his figure grow rigid and his grip on the sword grow tighter—and right when she thought he was going to attack…he fled.

"Come back!" she screamed, following him. "Come back, show me your face, you coward!"

But he didn't listen to her—he kept going, farther and farther, past the dead Uchiha bodies on the ground, past the houses and then past the edge of the village—they were in the forest now, but Miho was hardly tired—she was fueled only by the image of her father being slain before her, and the blind courage that accompanies one who knows that she is facing death—but none of that mattered because—

"_I trusted you_!" she shrieked. "_After all this time, I trusted you!_"

He stopped, and Miho went running into him with as much force as she could manage—she only wished that she had a kunai in her hand to sink into his heart, his twisted, black heart, the fiend, the traitor, the bastard she could kill over and over—

He only let her hit once, and then he was fighting back, every move cold and calculated, every move better than hers, more controlled, more powerful. She found herself losing ground, found her vision blurring and realized that it was because her eyes were flooded with tears—

"Why?" she screamed. "I trusted you! You killed him! You killed Otou-san! You killed everyone in your clan—_Itachi! Why?_"

And then she was grabbed around the throat and held immobile against the trunk of a tree—she found herself gasping, struggling and hitting anywhere she could, but Itachi held her still and well out of reach.

"Bastard," she spat, "traitor, you…"

An excruciating pain entered her, somewhere, where, she did not know, but she felt it, felt it and could not feel anything after that—and it hurt so badly that the tears of fury and betrayal became mingled with tears of pain, and she knew that she was dying, knew that he had actually impaled her against that damn tree—fucking Itachi, what had she done, what had she ever believed in—her conviction that he was all right, that he was normal, fighting with Hiroki—a sob rose in her throat but was blocked by the blood that had filled her mouth; her vision was failing her, the world was turning black and the last thing she was ever going to see was the fucking bastard who had stolen everything from her—

She made one feeble swipe—it was not even a punch, maybe a pathetic slap, but that was all she was at this point, pathetic, crying, naïve and betrayed; her hand caught his face and ripped off his mask, but her eyes were already closing because she couldn't even see that cursed face in front of her, but all she knew was that it was his chakra, and then her head hung down, unmoving, cold, and the last thing she saw was his stupid mask, crushed in and cracked, painted with that playful smirk of his, and then she saw nothing at all.

* * *

_We tried to pretend what it would be like if we were both stupid today. And I don't mean that in a derogatory manner—but we both know that we're much more intelligent than the average ninja, and that's perhaps why we get in so many problems. _

_It was a childish conversation, a what-if situation, really silly, actually. But it was relaxing—he said that he would open a restaurant, I said that I would be a farmer. When he asked me what I would grow (the answer was so obvious—potatoes), he laughed, and it's a sound I haven't heard in a while, just because he's been so distant lately. _

_And then I realized that our lives would be a lot better if we were stupid, if we were normal, but then we wouldn't have met if we were._

* * *

_free talk:_

_i'm so so so so so sorry for not having updated this in over half a year. i'm a very terrible person and i'm so sorry for it! i will try to make this updating a little more regular. : ( i'm so sorry! i will do better._

_now that we've finished up the pre-massacre arc, there's a lot more to be done. please look forward to it! _

_if you feel nice, please review! :) i know, i don't deserve it, haha.  
lj later. _

_xoxo,  
m.n _


	12. What Pinwheels Weave

**A Glass of Crimson Souls: **_**Part II**_

* * *

_I don't think there's anything more terrible than being alone in the world. When you're alone, you lose everything—you may have your own life, and people may tell you that it's possible to start over—but it's not. It's not possible. You sit there, looking at your reflection in the mirror, and you don't see anything. You are a husk, a faded imprint in someone's imagination. In your own imagination. _

_When you're alone, you've lost all purpose, all reason worth living…because what it means to be truly, truly alone is to have no attachment to anyone, to anything, no love, no hate, no passion. Passion is what drives life—no matter if it is an ardent love or a hateful ambition; as long as it consumes you, as long as it drives you…then you live. _

_I sit here, now, alone. In my hands are a pen and this old, old journal, this journal that has been marked and torn, this journal that has been wept and bled over. I sit here, feeling more alone than I have ever felt in my entire life, and sadly, this journal seems less alone than I am. It lives in a way that I do not. _

_Just because I breathe doesn't mean I live. I have never felt the desire to die so badly. I read this journal over and over again, trying to pry from it some meaning, some reason, some will and some life, but all I get is our mixed souls in this vessel, and all it is is retrospect, our deepest thoughts and deepest desires and in the end, he could live for none of them, he could not live for himself, and he could not live for me. _

_And I know I will never forgive him for it._

* * *

**Chapter 12: What Pinwheels Weave**

"It's her, Kakashi."

Kakashi frowned, dragging his gaze from the woman who was currently being held in the interrogation room. Ibiki looked at him with conviction.

"How can you be so sure?" said Kakashi dubiously.

Ibiki shook his head. "Inoichi just scanned through her memories—you saw them too. You were in them—can't you say that those are right?"

"But in the event that she's an imposter," said Kakashi coldly, "those memories could've been replicated—"

"Kakashi, I know that it's natural to be distrustful—I am not saying that we trust her. I do not know her motives, and there are areas of her memory that are hazy and suspicious. I am merely stating the facts: this is, without a doubt, the real Chiaki Miho."

Kakashi did not say anything, instead studying the woman who could not see him through the tinted glass panes.

"She looks…doesn't look the same," he said doubtfully.

"It's been five years, Kakashi. Only you don't age."

Kakashi chuckled wryly. "What does the Hokage say?"

"He seems interested in this woman's resurfacing—he even scanned her memories with Inoichi. I believe that he wants you to address her next…try and find a motive."

"I see…I'll go ahead."

Kakashi entered the interrogation room and sat down across from the woman who claimed to be his protégé. He made no movement to speak; instead, he watched her intently as she likewise did not respond; her slate gray eyes were definitely like the ones he remembered, but if this was truly Miho, then Asuma had not done her justice by calling her "average" so long ago. Five years had lengthened her face and changed her looks; she had grown.

But the expression of intense dislike that she wore was a familiar one; she was scowling naturally, and her fingers tapped the table's surface impatiently.

"I suppose I owe you an apology?" said Kakashi finally.

Her scowl deepened. "I'll take one when you finally believe it's me. Ask me anything—I'll answer."

"Birthday present to you when you turned fifteen?"

"Bracelet. Crystal studded and silver."

"Animal you Summon?"

"Crows."

"What about in your ANBU exam?"

"Pakkun."

"Ah," said Kakashi, unwilling to admit that he was slowly being convinced.

"Anything else?" she said loftily.

"Last thing…" He paused, unsure of if this was an appropriate question. "Who killed your father?"

This was the first time that Kakashi saw her expression change; it was not terribly noticeable, truth be told, but it was extremely concentrated. Her entire face darkened and her eyes radiated an intense and uncontrollable hatred. Kakashi prepared himself; it seemed like that any moment, she would attack him, and right when he was about to remove the headband over his Sharingan eye, Miho spoke, her voice cold with vehemence.

"Uchiha fucking Itachi."

* * *

"So you say that…it took you six months to wake up?" said the Hokage cautiously.

Miho nodded curtly.

"And so in the last five years…what have you been doing?"

"My memories did not come to me completely," she answered. "I was disoriented about who I actually was for a long time—I stayed in the care of my benefactors, unwilling to discover my identity because I unconsciously knew that there was something among my memories that I never wanted to find out…"

The temperature in the room seemed to take a dip, but Miho continued in a flat, neutral tone.

"I stayed in Suna, unwilling to find out who I was but perfectly willing to hone my skills—for it all came naturally to me—and I became a doctor in their hospital. This continued for…four years…but it catalyzed, though, one day. Someone came in with a bingo book and I looked through it…"

Miho's lips twisted into a cold smirk, and her eyes took on that same kind of frightening hatred that Kakashi had been so cautious about moments before.

"There he was. Uchiha Itachi."

"Yes…" said the Hokage wearily. "Uchiha Itachi."

"It all came back then—you saw my memories, I think—I couldn't sense that well with the handcuffs on when you were rudely sniffing around in my head."

"Chiaki," barked Ibiki.

"Ah, yes," she said. "Tone. Sorry, I forgot how to act in the faces of higher authority."

"Miho…" said Kakashi this time, conscious of her socially inept personality but still chiding.

"It's fine," the Hokage said. "Now then, Chiaki-san, please allow me to ask you…what you intend to do back in Konoha."

"Reinstate me," she said immediately. "I'm quite skilled—more than capable of jounin status, which I was at five years ago."

"The skill level has increased overall—"

"And so has mine," said Miho with a hard glint in her eyes. "Or put me in the hospital—either is fine."

The Hokage did not reply immediately.

"Chiaki Miho…can I trust you?" he said finally. "Could I very well entrust the village to your hands?"

"That's a decision you can make," said Miho quietly.

"What will you do about Uchiha Itachi?"

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"What will you do if news about him arises? Your hatred for him is…is warranted, but…I do not want you losing sight of what you have to protect," said the Hokage. "Your village, your…fam—I mean…the people around you. It is not worth forsaking that for revenge."

"You forget that I don't have people around me to forsake at all," she said smoothly.

The Hokage's face darkened, and Miho paused before continuing.

"As much as I hate Uchiha Itachi…I am not going out of my way to find him," she replied. "I want my old life back…back in Konoha. Should he willingly come to me, however…that will be a different story."

The Hokage nodded. "What is it you want?"

"…Peace of mind."

He smiled tiredly. "That is what we all want, Chiaki Miho, but it is not so easy to attain. I understand what you are asking for though, and I will do what I can. I cannot rank you as a jounin as of now—first, you will join Hatake Kakashi in his missions and he will report to me your caliber so we can come to a decision about your rank. If you are interested in the hospital…then feel free to join when you can, though I'd rather you aid in the fighting force to protect Konoha. We are at a time of peace, finally—but we are lacking the manpower in the event that something disastrous happens." The elderly man turned to Kakashi. "Is this satisfactory to you, Kakashi?"

"It is," he answered.

"Very well. You are dismissed—should anything come to arise, Chiaki Miho, do not be afraid to come to me directly."

Miho seemed relieved with the outcome, and to everyone's surprise, made a deep, low bow to the Hokage.

"Thank you."

She was almost out the door when the Hokage spoke again.

"Chiaki Miho."

She turned around. "Yes?"

The Hokage gave a smile that was difficult to read. "Welcome home."

* * *

Night had settled in Konoha, and as Kakashi and Miho stepped outside, he noticed that she seemed to take a deep breath in before letting it out slowly. Her shoulders relaxed visibly, and as he drew up to her, he saw that her face had lost its coldness and now carried the faint traces of a smile.

"Welcome home," he said neutrally.

She turned to him, a look of irritation passing by.

"Thanks," she said. "I would've preferred that at first instead of a punch to the stomach though."

"I apologize for that," he chuckled, leading her into the still-bustling streets. "You have to admit that your way of introduction was not the most orthodox or trustworthy though."

"Point taken—I'll remember that next time." Miho stretched out her limbs and let out another breath. "Konoha…still smells the same, honestly. Feels the same."

"It's grown, though," said Kakashi. "More than you can imagine, these last few years."

"Mm…"

"You must be hungry after those long hours of interrogation," said Kakashi jokingly. "How about we go to the café by the bridge? It's still there, you know."

Miho didn't answer.

"Miho?"

"I'd rather get ramen," she said. "Let's do that instead."

"Fine," said Kakashi wearily. "I must say that I'm sick of it though—Naruto _thrives_ on the stuff."

"Naruto?"

"Ah, of course you don't know."

"No, the name rings a bell," she said. "Uzumaki Naruto, was it? Wasn't he the Kyuubi host?"

"He _is_," corrected Kakashi as they arrived at Ichiraku Ramen. "But that's not what I was meaning. I meant to say—I have three little Genin protégés now. Naruto is one of them."

"Is he?" said Miho, sitting down at the booth. The owner of the restaurant came up to them, beaming, and asked what they wanted. "I'll just have the special, and an extra egg, if that's okay."

"I've already had dinner, thanks," said Kakashi. "I'm just here to pay for her."

Miho smiled. "So kind. Or is it because you still won't show anyone your face? No?" she said in surprise when he shook his head. "I'm going to start thinking there's some monstrosity under that mask, senpai…"

"Oh, wow, I haven't been called that in ages," he laughed. "It's always 'Kakashi-sensei' or just plain old 'Kakashi,' because Sasuke has no manners—"

"Sasuke?" repeated Miho. "…Uchiha…Sasuke, you mean?"

Kakashi cursed inwardly—he'd breached the subject too early. He'd meant to tell her after she'd already eaten—perhaps she'd take the news easier that way…but he'd already let it slip.

"Uchiha Itachi left one person alive that night," said Kakashi quietly. "Sasuke saw his parents killed in front of him and then was psychologically tortured—he now holds a hatred for Itachi that is…"

Kakashi did not finish his sentence when he saw Miho's face: shadowed, twisted, suffering—

"Miho," said Kakashi gently.

"…Over and over," she said flatly, "I have asked myself _why_, just…just why…and I keep thinking…seeing…reliving what happened that night, and—" She broke off when the ramen arrived, and she gave a nod of appreciation to the owner. Kakashi thought that she was going to continue, but she didn't.

"Miho," he said softly.

"It's nothing," she said blandly.

"…Miho, do not hate Sasuke for living."

"I don't," she said.

"I know you better than others—you cannot pretend in front of me. All the same, do not resent him for being the one spared. There is something much worse than dying, and that is to be alone. Sasuke has lived alone for the last five years, powered by only his hatred—it is not an enviable life, Miho. Slowly, now, I can see that he is changing, perhaps softening, but it has been a painful journey for him too."

"I know," she said impartially.

Kakashi rested a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him.

"I know that you are consumed with that same hatred," he said. "Regardless, Miho, I am glad you came back to Konoha first. I am…glad that you are alive, because it gives you a chance to start over." He smiled.

"Tch, senpai…anymore than that and you'll make me blush," she said, looking away to begin eating.

"That would be a sight," said Kakashi. "I—"

"KAKASHI-SENSEI?" said an astonished voice behind them.

Kakashi took his hand away from Miho's shoulder as he turned around to find Naruto at the entrance of the restaurant. He stifled a groan—Naruto was going to become obese if he kept eating ramen this late at night…

"YOU'RE HERE WITH A WOMAN?" shouted Naruto obnoxiously. "IS THAT WHY YOU CANCELED OUR TRAINING SESSION THIS AFTERNOON? BECAUSE YOU WERE WITH A WOMAN?"

"Naruto," said Kakashi, already feeling a headache approaching, "please lower your voice—"

"Wow, but hey!" said Naruto, eagerly bounding up to them and looking at Miho interestedly. "Kakashi-sensei, _wow_, what a babe! I can almost forgive you now, except not really because Sasuke beat me in a match just this afternoon which means I have to train more to beat his punk-ass back—"

"Naruto!" Sakura skidded to a stop at the entrance. "God, would you slow down! Running like a maniac, disturbing the peace—if you keep that up, you'll end up in front of the Hokage for setting a bad example. You should act more like _Sasuke-kun_, so cool and composed—"

"You just about might make me barf, Sakura-chan," said Naruto with a gagging face. "Hey, where's that bastard anyway?"

"Language, Naruto," said Kakashi tiredly. "Is Sasuke coming too?"

"Yes," sniffed Sakura affectedly. "He's walking like a mature adult, not like this idiot over here—say, sensei, what _are_ you doing here—and who is with you?"

Kakashi turned to Miho.

"Sasuke's coming," he said. "Are you all right with that?"

"It'd happen eventually," she replied. "I'm fine."

He turned back to his pupils, who were eying them with ever growing curiosity at their apparent familiarity with each other. Before they said anything, though, another figure appeared at the entranceway, his hands stuck in his pockets as always, his face impassive to everything.

"Finally, you are so slow, Sasuke," groaned Naruto, plopping down at the counter. "Now we can eat—_hey, Ojii-san!_ The normal, please!"

"Fatso," muttered Sasuke, eyes flickering over to Kakashi. "Kakashi, what are you doing here?"

"I'll introduce you all," said Kakashi, drawing their attention to him. "Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto—this is Chiaki Miho, your predecessor and my old protégé."

Kakashi watched for Sasuke's reaction and was not disappointed; the young Uchiha's eyes widened and he paled significantly. He stepped forward almost immediately.

"Prove it," he snarled.

"Prove—what are you talking about, Sasuke—what the hell, Sasuke, why'd you activate your Sharingan?" yelped Naruto.

Miho looked at Kakashi.

"When did that happen?" she said, nodding to Sasuke.

"The Sharingan activation?" Kakashi said. Miho nodded. "It was on our first real mission, actually—"

"Don't ignore me!" shouted Sasuke. "You aren't _her_—_he_ killed her back then when he killed everyone else—"

Miho disappeared from Kakashi's side, and before anyone could register what had happened, she had slammed Sasuke's face to the ground.

"Sasuke-kun!" screamed Sakura.

"Miho," said Kakashi sharply.

"You really shouldn't activate your Sharingan in front of me," she said calmly to the struggling body under her arms. "They remind me of those eyes your demented brother had, and you can't help but look a lot like him, which makes me kind of want to kill you."

"Miho," said Kakashi, standing up to interfere.

Miho let Sasuke go and straightened up. Sasuke coughed as he stood, wiping his mouth of the dirt as he glared at her with his crimson eyes. Miho's eyes narrowed.

"Sasuke, stop," said Kakashi sternly. "De-activate your Sharingan—you're not looking for a fight. I've spent the entire afternoon with the Hokage, interrogating her—this is, without a doubt, the same Chiaki Miho you used to know."

"Lies," spat Sasuke. "He killed her—"

"You were a _lot_ cuter five years ago," scowled Miho. "Yeah, I remember the days too, you coming over to my house with your itty-bitty blue lunchbox positively yelping 'Miho, Miho, help me do my homework, help me train because everyone else ignores me since I'm entirely unlovable—,' yeah, those were the days."

"I did not yelp," said Sasuke coldly.

"Sounded like that to me."

Kakashi sighed and rubbed his temples methodically. Kids these days…

"Sasuke, I know it's hard to accept, but it's her. And Miho, one would think that after five years, you would've matured a little bit."

Miho's lips quirked into a swift smile before it disappeared.

"Then how did you survive?" snapped Sasuke. "They…they said they found too much blood at the scene—that there was no way someone could've survived after being stabbed like that…"

Miho's face had become ashen. "That's not something I want to discuss with Uchiha Itachi's little brother."

"Don't," snarled Sasuke, "say his name."

Miho scoffed and crossed her arms. "What are you so scared of him for? It's not like he has any reason to come after you."

"Well, I have plenty of reason to find him," said Sasuke coldly. "And I'm going to kill him."

"You think you have that right?" she said quietly.

"What the fuck are you talking about," he snarled, "of course I do—"

"You do realize who you're talking to, right?" said Miho, and her calm fury was all the more intimidating than Sasuke's outspoken hatred. "He left you alive. He impaled me against a fucking tree. I think there's a slight disparity there."

"Enough, Miho," said Kakashi, stepping forward. "Guys, I'll meet with you tomorrow to talk over our next steps in training—Miho, you should check into a hotel, or you can stay over with me."

It was a clear set-up for a joke from Naruto, but he and Sakura seemed too shaken to speak. Kakashi stifled a sigh; Miho was not making his life any easier.

"I'll see you all tomorrow then," said Kakashi cheerily, steering Miho out of the restaurant after he'd left the bill on the table.

He made sure that they were out of earshot before he cuffed Miho lightly across the head.

"Ow, what the hell was that for—"

"You aren't making things easier for anyone when you're like that with Sasuke," he said severely. "Telling him that he has no right to find his brother is offensive and wrong—you were right: Itachi left Sasuke alive and you to die. But I've told you before, Miho—nothing is worse than living alone. You lived in Suna with no memories—that was better than suffering by himself, knowing everything."

Miho did not respond.

"I ask that you control yourself around Sasuke," said Kakashi. "You were an old support for him—it would be good if you became one again…and steered him away from his obsessive ambition."

Miho ran a hand through her wispy hair.

"We'll see," she answered thinly.

"All right then," said Kakashi with renewed jollity. "We can go over to my place then—"

"It's fine, senpai. I'll get a place myself."

"Ah, but…"

"Is my old house still there?" she said. Kakashi did not miss a slight raised hope in her voice.

"…No, I'm sorry," he said. "It was torn down for expansion…"

"…I see," said Miho, resigned.

"But even if you don't want to stay at my place, we should stop there first."

"What for?"

"…I saved a few things of yours," he said reluctantly.

Miho looked at him avidly. "Really? What did you save?"

Kakashi couldn't repress a smile. "Your mother's old journals and a few pictures of you. I kept them…for memories, and perhaps maybe because I regretted that…like so many relationships I'd made before…that the one with you disappeared so quickly and unexpectedly. What I regretted, I'm not exactly sure…but it is definitely good to see you back. I think you'd appreciate those mementos more than I, now."

Miho stopped walking all of a sudden, causing Kakashi to stop in his tracks and look back at her.

"Something amiss, Miho?"

She said nothing, but abruptly threw her arms around his neck, catching him by surprise. He said nothing, though, and instead hugged her a little awkwardly back. They remained as such, Kakashi not quite sure when to break it off, and instead deciding that Miho, who was so averse to such displays, must have her reasons.

"These last five years," she said quietly, her voice muffled, "I've changed much more than you can imagine, senpai. And when I saw Sasuke today, his eyes have changed, too…swallowed by his hatred and…"

She tightened her hold a little bit, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Thank you for staying the same."

* * *

"Thanks again, senpai."

"You can stop calling me that, you know. Kakashi is fine. You don't need anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. I'll come see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, then, Miho."

She smiled. "Goodnight, Kakashi."

Miho waited until the door to her hotel room had shut firmly and Kakashi's footsteps had died away before she threw herself at the bag of possessions Kakashi had given her. The aura around her changed—the smile melted off her face, and she threw the contents on the bag on the bed and searched through it frantically. Old, blue notebooks with Aki's faded handwriting, pictures of her, Kakashi, Hiroki…but the search took less than a few minutes before Miho sighed, concluding to herself that what she was looking for wasn't there, and she collapsed onto the bed herself.

It had bothered her for the last five years as to where exactly her very first journal had gone. She had kept up the habit of writing, but she had never finished the first one, the one that had documented her old Konoha life, and she had never been able to find it either. Her Summoning scroll had yielded her nothing, much to her surprise, and now it was clear that she had not misplaced it among Aki's journals either. She could not think of where else she would've put it…unless Kakashi had missed it, and they had been destroyed along with her old house.

Miho did not look at Aki's journals or the pictures—she was long past that degree of sentiment. Looking at old photographs of Hiroki and her—her scowling and Hiroki stern—made her uncomfortable and guilty. Likewise, there was no real purpose in looking through Aki's recollections other than to brood and muse; Miho had long surpassed Aki's level of ability.

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She still needed to give out the signal that she had snuck into Konoha safely and, so far, with no strange suspicions surrounding her. Frowning, Miho concentrated as she gave her chakra signals one huge push—her chakra swelled for an infinitesimal moment before she reined it back in to its normal levels, or at least, what was normal enough to be sensed.

She stood up again and made her way into the restroom to rinse up and prepare for bed. She was probably going to be contacted before she went to sleep; just the thought of the contact made her sick.

Kakashi had struck a slight nerve when he'd told her that Sasuke had had a pitiful life these last five years, living alone and knowing that his brother was the cause for it all. He had said that Miho didn't understand…she hadn't known the truth, and ignorance was bliss…

But Kakashi didn't know _the_ truth. The truth about Itachi and her relationship before that massacre, the truth about _her_, because she hadn't woken up with amnesia—no, she'd woken up six months later knowing exactly who had betrayed her, who had killed her father and his own family, who had led her on for so long and then mercilessly left her to die…who the owner of the necklace was of she'd been wearing…

No, Kakashi was wrong, because it was better to be alone and living comfortably, than to be alone and living as a prisoner of the world's sickest fuck.

Miho stepped out of the shower, the bathroom steam wafting and warm. She tossed a towel over her shoulder and stopped in front of the mirror. An ironic smirk crept to her lips; she was, without a doubt, flat as a board, but other than that, her skin looked beautiful. Flawless. Her body was thin, lithe, muscled…other than the breasts, or lack thereof, her body was certainly quite enviable.

She did a sensory check around her before letting her entire body relax, and the layer of carefully constructed chakra fell away, and her body morphed. The perfect skin disappeared, and her torso became a rugged, jarring map of scars and burns, ugly and reprehensible. Miho was no longer smiling as she studied her reflection in the mirror, her fingers trailing over the ridges across her body that served as a visual reminder of what she had undergone in the last five years: lashes and abrasions, broken bones and souls and more—and then, obvious among the rest despite the amount of injuries that had accumulated on top of it, the clean two inch line right over her heart, nestled perfectly between two crisscross slashes that were now slightly faded.

She let out a long, weary breath before closing her eyes and reconstructing the façade of perfection over her body, the chakra warming and comfortable in its deceit. The injuries caused her to ache whenever the weather was bad or when she was stressed, and the chakra veil helped her both physically and mentally. It was only a slight exertion, and she was controlled enough to make sure that the veil did not alter her chakra levels noticeably.

Someone's chakra appeared in the hotel room. Miho shrugged on a bathrobe and left the misty bathroom, her eyes flickering as she saw the visitor.

"You were supposed to let us know you'd arrived the moment they let you out of interrogation, you know," said Kabuto, pushing up his glasses as he surveyed her.

"I like to improvise," she said coolly.

He smirked. "Well? Did they suspect anything?"

"They don't trust me completely, but I think I'm fine. It helps that I know Kakashi from long ago."

"Ah, of course. That certainly does help. Your alibi?"

"What we'd planned. The Chuunin exams are coming up—make sure the Suna kids pretend like they don't know me."

"But you were supposedly kept in Suna—that shouldn't be a big deal," said Kabuto.

"It'd raise unnecessary suspicions if we were familiar with each other," she answered. "I'll deal with the explanations."

"Fine."

"Is that it?" she said. "You can go tell Orochimaru I'm done with my part—now go away and leave me alone."

Kabuto's eyes gleamed. "Feeling confident now that you're out of Orochimaru-sama's sight?"

Miho smirked coldly. "Don't bother, Kabuto. You know you can't beat me."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Kabuto raced forward, his chakra easy to read. Miho debated for a moment if it was worth beating him up a bit, especially since the last time she had, Orochimaru had been in a particularly bad mood and she'd suffered worse repercussions than normal…but she was always willing to take a few extra risks when Orochimaru wasn't around and decided that it couldn't hurt. She dodged Kabuto's attack while bringing her wrists together so that the tattooed seals overlapped. A sword appeared in her hands and with one deft movement, she sidestepped Kabuto, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the ground; there was a loud popping noise and the body she threw became a pillow. Miho sensed his chakra behind her and disappeared from where she stood, only to stop right beside him, the sword's blade glinting at his throat.

"Not a replacement this time, mm?" she said lightly.

"You have a lot of nerve, stealing one of Orochimaru-sama's blades…" he said through gritted teeth.

"I'd steal a lot more if you weren't breathing down my neck the entire time," she said. "Go and tell Orochimaru that everything's fine—he can just contact me later about whatever demented orders he still wants me to carry out."

"You can be sure that he'll be hearing about this," said Kabuto irritably.

"What are you," scoffed Miho, retrieving her sword and resealing it, "a five year old? If you have a grudge against me, do something about it yourself instead of running back to Orochimaru with your tail tucked between your legs—"

"Oh, but things are just so much more effective with Orochimaru-sama's punishments," said Kabuto with a glint of triumph in his eyes. "I think getting whored around for favors is pretty efficient—it shuts you up for a while, and Orochimaru-sama gets whatever he wants—"

"Do shut up, Kabuto," said Miho dryly. "You've done your job—save us both some time and get the hell out."

Kabuto made a small "tch"-ing noise, but the hour was late and both of them were not in the mood for further argument; he disappeared with another puff, and his chakra left the room. Miho sank down onto the bed, her arm unconsciously cradling a picture frame. She picked it up to examine it. It was of her and Kakashi, after she'd passed the ANBU exams, and it was one of the rare photos of her where she was smiling. Kakashi had his hand on her shoulder and the two of them were winking at the camera, Miho with her new ANBU mask clinging to the side of her head.

It was a foreign memory, one that she hardly remembered. Indeed, if she had to tell the truth, she had not given Kakashi much thought in the last five years. Her every minute of waking had been consumed with the thought of Uchiha Itachi, her every minute of sleep devoured by nightmares of that night, or of any fresh particular torture that managed to shake her.

She remembered what it had been like, when she'd woken up. Connected to multiple IVs, the methodic beeping of monitors, a room dimly lit. Kabuto had been the first person she'd seen—he'd dropped everything he'd been carrying and raced out of the room, only to return with one of the most infamous people in Konoha's history…the sickest bastard she'd ever met. Orochimaru told her with that slick, slithering tone of his, just how he'd procured such a treasure; he'd had his eyes on her for a while, last carrier of the Ishachi, and had found her by pure chance, impaled against that tree; he'd taken her to his lair, treated her, injected drugs and chemicals into her, and waited…waited for his beloved item of experimentation to wake up, to train her…but in the meantime, he'd drawn her blood, tested it, found its capabilities, found what he could give her when she woke up to make her even stronger…

She did not stay willingly, not at first. She learned only after a few escape attempts that she precisely could _not_ escape—Orochimaru was too strong for her to every dream of trying to defeat. It didn't help that Orochimaru was particularly skilled at torture, at choosing the most psychologically scarring experiences for her to undergo…to push her wound assimilation abilities to the point where she would collapse and not awake for weeks, and then it took only a few months before what she preferred to call the "lending" started…Orochimaru had friends in high places who needed favors once in a while…and Miho was a troublemaker anyway…

Miho blinked, realizing that she had slipped unintentionally into a pool of thoughts that she did not need to be thinking about. True, the first time had had her shaking for weeks, but it'd been four years since she'd had her virginity taken from her—essentially, she was used to it by now. Or at least, that was what she liked to tell herself when she was feeling less vulnerable.

No, there was no point thinking about it now; nothing was gained from self-pity, and she had long accepted that there was no one she could or ever _would_ willingly tell about what had happened to her for the last five years. No, there was nothing else to think about other than how she was going to help Orochimaru infiltrate Konoha, and then in the chaos of his attack, escape into his lair and dig out every bit of information she could on Itachi…because she _knew_ that Orochimaru had information on Itachi that he was hiding, that he was using as his trump card…but Miho had not made an escape attempt in the last three years, which had led to Orochimaru trusting her a bit…

She would find out as much about Itachi as she would now, sneak into Konoha's library and sniff around…and then after finding everything she could, she'd help destroy the village, find what Orochimaru was hiding, and then track down the man who'd taken everything away from her.

Comforted by this thought, Miho dropped the picture frame and closed her eyes. A smirk crept up to her lips.

_Welcome home? You have no home now, Miho. You only have your pain and your hatred left—you abandoned your home when you abandoned your humanity. _

With that, she fell asleep.

* * *

"Are you certain she knows nothing?" said Danzou sternly. "I do not want your sentiment and guilt shielding her, Sarutobi—we already have a threat in Uchiha Sasuke, whom you obstinately chose to keep alive and safe—"

"Sasuke was a mere child at the time," said the Sandaime frostily. "He was no threat—it was the least we could do for Itachi, whom we forced to—"

"It was his duty," said Danzou, "as is it ours, Sarutobi, to defend this village. If Chiaki Miho knows about the massacre then she is back to infiltrate and cause chaos."

"I personally scanned her memories with Inoichi. Her memories with Itachi are particularly vivid—there is no mistaking the hatred in her for him. It is highly improbable that she knows the truth."

"Then what is she here for?" asked the elder councilwoman.

The Sandaime paused. "I'm not sure…she says she's here for peace of mind, but…hatred like hers does not go unnoticed."

"Then we shall keep an eye on her."

"I've already asked Hatake Kakashi to do so."

"Shall we tell him the truth?" suggested the councilman hesitantly.

Danzou shook his head.

"This is a secret that will be kept to our graves. We cannot jeopardize Konoha by releasing such information. No, simply tell Hatake Kakashi to report to us should she exhibit any suspicious activity…in the meantime…is Itachi still keeping correspondence with us?"

"It's occasional, if not infrequent," responded the councilwoman. "In the event that he does contact us, though, shall we alert him of this new development?"

"No," said Danzou. "They were children. Any emotions he might've felt for her disappeared when he decided to impale her against a tree. I doubt he thinks about her—she is, after all, as good as dead."

* * *

"You returned at a good time, Miho," said Kakashi the next morning at breakfast. He had arrived at her hotel early and had insisted that he treat her out, despite Miho's indignation and her casual point that if she was not allowed to call him senpai, then he had no obligation to pay for her food.

"What in time for?" she said casually.

"The Chuunin exams."

"How long ago was that for you?" said Miho wryly. "Like…twenty?"

"Give or take," said Kakashi nonchalantly, watching Miho as she ate. He still did not eat in front of her.

"Aren't your kids like…twelve? Kids these days," sighed Miho into her tea. "So slow…"

"Standards have changed, Miho. We aren't in need of twelve-year old squad leaders anymore."

"Are all three of your kids entering?" she asked.

Kakashi nodded in affirmation.

"So who do you think has the best chance?"

He shrugged. "They're all strong in their own way…Sakura is smart, though I wish she would be a bit more level-headed sometimes when it comes to Sasuke…Naruto is too rash, but he has endless potential and grows in leaps and bounds…and Sasuke, well…he reminds me a little of myself when I was younger, I suppose.

"I can't quite remember if that's a good or bad thing," said Miho with a faint smile.

"Of course it's a combination of both," said Kakashi sincerely. "Genius, but distrustful. He's softening a bit though—I think he regards his team as friends. It's comforting…"

"You sound like your only friends are your genin kids," she said. "Don't you spend time with anyone else?"

"Some of the jounin, of course," he replied indifferently. "Asuma, Kurenai, Gai, we occasionally meet up for drinks."

"You know that's not necessarily what I mean," she said. "Isn't it about time you find someone, well, a little more special?"

"You mean a girlfriend, Miho," said Kakashi, chuckling. "You can say it, you know."

"I didn't want to be rude, senpai," she said.

"There's someone I have in mind," he admitted.

"Really?" she said, surprised. "Who?"

"You speak with a tone of surprise, Miho. Why is that?"

"Because I was honestly kidding around," she said. "You're not one to be emotionally involved past a certain extent—I learned that the hard way a long time ago."

Kakashi didn't answer, and Miho found herself smiling gently. She was about to speak up again when someone cast a shadow over her plate, and she looked up.

"…Hey," said Sasuke, his face blank, his eyes fixated on Miho's food, his hands stuck in his pockets.

"Hey Sasuke," said Kakashi, his eyes flickering to the clock that hung on the restaurant's wall. "We're not meeting for another half hour, but what's going on?"

He moved his head jerkily. "…A word."

"You want a word with me, is that it?" said Miho. "Since when did you become this vocally incompetent?"

A shadow of annoyance passed over his face. "I—"

"I was just kidding, kiddo," she said. "Senpai, I'll meet up with you later."

"We'll meet at the training grounds. Don't take too long."

Sasuke and Miho wandered through the streets of Konoha, trying to blend in with the crowd, but it proved to be ineffective because Sasuke seemed to be the indirect object of attention wherever he went. Perhaps it was because the famously cool and distant Uchiha was actually strolling in public with a girl—despite her being a good bit older than he was—but regardless, the two of them eventually headed for the bridge at the edge of the village, the one closest to the old Uchiha compound.

Miho felt waves of apprehension as Sasuke led her there. She could feel the old nostalgia crawl over her, and feelings that she thought had disappeared resurface again; here was the old café, still bustling, its scent of warm tea and noodles wafting out its doors; here was the bridge where she and Itachi had sat often, and then down the street was where she would watch him go home…and though she thought she would feel a surge of hatred…she did not. These were old memories…comforting ones…but in the end, they had all been lies…so why? Why did she not want to forget them?

Sasuke caught her off guard. "You came with him often here, didn't you?"

"…Yeah, I did."

"…How did you end up in the compound that night?" said Sasuke, his dark eyes looking over the river.

Miho studied him, her chin leaning on her hands, letting the wind speak in her place.

"You look a lot like him," she said finally. "More than you'd expect.

Sasuke stiffened.

"Does that bother you?" she said. He nodded curtly. "It bothers me too. You Uchiha…" She let out a noise, half-irritation, half-old sorrow, "sometimes I don't know what I think of you all. I thought I'd hate you for being his brother. For surviving. Why? Why you? I…I didn't even know."

"He said that…" Sasuke cleared his throat, "he wanted to test his mettle. His capacity. That…I was _insignificant._ Not worth his time…and then to grow up…survive…like a coward, hate him, hating him…until the day where I was strong enough to stand in front of him…and fight."

His voice burned, a depth that Miho could see was reflected in his now activated Sharingan, an icy, burning scarlet that she couldn't help but feel strongly antagonistic to.

"Does he know you're alive?" said Sasuke.

Miho smiled oddly. "Did anyone?"

Sasuke didn't reply, and the two of them stood there, their questions lost, their speech faded; Konoha passed by in front of them, the river rippling as time wore on, leaving those two trapped by one man who did not care for their existences.

* * *

"Itachi-san."

Itachi opened his eyes wearily as Kisame joined him in the room; his hands unconsciously moved to hide whatever was in them from view as he turned to look at his mission partner.

"What is it?" he inquired.

"Next mission—we leave tomorrow morning for the Land of the Stone. That's all."

Itachi nodded wordlessly and turned back to the object in his hands.

"Are you reading that old journal again?" said Kisame with that strange, throaty chuckle of his that resembled grating sandpaper. "You're going to wear it out."

"Leave, Kisame."

"Right, right, I forgot that reading time is special alone time for you. Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

Kisame left and the thin door slid shut behind him. Itachi waited until Kisame's footsteps had died away before he looked down at the journal.

It was worn, now, so worn that Itachi was hesitant to keep reading it as often as he did because he was afraid that the binding would fall apart, that the ink that proved that Chiaki Miho had existed would fade away.

He opened it now, his dark onyx eyes looking down at the scrawl of a woman he had no idea why he still contained such sentiment for. Or perhaps sentiment was not the right word. But what was…he did not know.

Miho had written in her journal in the last few weeks of her life much more than he had thought. He had not read it as often because they'd spent so much time together…but after the massacre, he'd read it all through for the first time, then again, and again, because it gave him everything he needed: food for thought, memories, nostalgia, and most of all, guilt.

Five years had passed, and he knew all the entries by heart after the first time he'd read it through…but he still opened it occasionally. Kisame knew that when he sank into these moods, he wasn't supposed to be disturbed. Perhaps Kisame saw him as weak…regretful. Which Itachi was, but no one else knew that…Itachi passed it off to boredom, that the journal contained philosophical life lessons that Itachi was miring his way through. All this, again, was not entirely true…

But he could not help but feel rather off this night. Thinking. Sometimes, on the nights where he felt weaker, felt his heart constrict and was seized with coughing fits and ailments that Kisame knew nothing about…Itachi sometimes felt Miho somewhere with him. As if her dead memory was trying to kill him…as if the curiosity he had displayed so innocently when he drank her blood was now going to do everything it could to exact revenge. And it was in these moments where Miho seemed alive, almost…

Yet it was in the quiet moments, like now, where Miho seemed most alive. When her words came to life, came to infiltrate his mind like a searing obsession…

One particular excerpt struck him tonight.

_There is no such thing as coincidence. I believe that to a certain extent life is planned for each and everyone of us. Every step we take, every person we meet…but we have multiple fates, and our destiny depends on the decisions we make, the relationships we seek to further…and at the end of our life, we can look back, see what web we've woven for ourselves, and that web colors our souls…_

_I sit here now, not far enough in life to look back and see exactly where fate has led me, but I can say this for certain: I've made my decision, to stand by him and to let him color my soul in, and the pinwheel is turning, and fate keeps rolling on._

* * *

free talk:

_thank you all for giving me so much love for the last chapter, despite my long hiatus. i appreciate each and every one of your reviews, and am sorry that i didn't reply them because i thought it'd be better of me to come out with another chapter._

_i hope you enjoy this chapter, and i will be discussing more on my lj later on if you're interested. _

_please leave a review if you want! :)  
xoxo,  
__m.n _


	13. Your Life, My Purpose

**Chapter 13: Your Life, My Purpose**

The days rolled by quickly as Miho adjusted to her life in Konoha. She did not attend the hospital but instead spent her time with Kakashi and his team, watching them as they trained for the Chuunin exams. She offered no advice and gave no help; the Chuunin exams' structure had changed much since she'd become a Chuunin, and she felt no inclination to give any of them a good measure of her strength. She could tell that Kakashi was cautious of this; more than once had he suggested a sparring match of some kind, and after declining multiple times, Miho finally gave in and lost to him brilliantly. She had put up a decent fight and lost only after prolonged attacks. The result seemed to satisfy Kakashi, for he did not ask for any more displays of her power.

Like always, she took the backseat.

* * *

_As time goes by, I vaguely start recalling what it means to be at peace. The daily routine of waking up, looking around me and realizing: this is home. This is what it's supposed to feel like. Spending time with Kakashi makes me remember what I used to be like before anything ever happened, and sometimes, I must admit, I remember the things about him that so attracted me when I was younger. _

_And then there is Sasuke as well. He is not as chipper as he used to be—if anything, he is deadened and sullen. Regardless, there is a sense of comfort around him as well; he seems to find it still a bit difficult to talk to me, to accept that I am alive…but it is not terribly important. I will not be here in Konoha long enough for us to develop a sincere relationship anyway. _

_I should say the same for Kakashi. I do not want him spending too much time with me. I am not here to be at home, or to be at peace. _

_I am here to keep fate turning._

* * *

"Were you seriously going all out against Kakashi, that one time?" said Sasuke over his noodles.

"What makes you think I didn't?" said Miho, pouring them both tea. "I've never been able to beat Kakashi, you know. The Sharingan lends advantages over people that hard work could never dream of doing. It doesn't help that Kakashi's a genius."

"So are you," said Sasuke flatly.

Miho chuckled. "Are you sure you're talking to the right person? I'm a doctor, Sasuke. If you want to call that genius, well, I'm flattered."

"…You can beat me," he muttered.

"You're thirteen," she said exasperatedly. "If I couldn't beat a thirteen year old, I'd be a laughing stock."

"…Do you think you could beat Itachi?"

"Sasuke," said Miho sharply.

"I'm just asking," he said angrily.

"You know I hate talking about this with you."

"Why? You're the only person I can talk to about it—"

"No, I can't beat him. I'll leave him for you—is that what you want me to say?"

"I didn't mean that—"

"Drop it, Sasuke."

"Miho—"

"Drop it."

* * *

_I'm starting to forget. I'm starting to want to stay, to feel at home, to feel safe. When I put on the Konoha headband in the morning, it's almost second nature even though I haven't worn one in five years. When I look in the mirror, I see a kunoichi who lives for her village, whose life and stability rely on her village. _

_I'm starting to want to forget. Forget everything that's happened for the last five years, and what happened that night too. I want to just remain here, submerged in ignorance, not deluged by this anger and hatred and lack of understanding._

* * *

"It's been a while, Miho."

Miho snapped her eyes open. The room was completely dark, save for the pale stream of moonlight that fluttered in with the slightly parted curtains and the now-open window. She sat up slowly, already aware of the two chakras in the room.

"Orochimaru," she greeted, eyes narrowing.

"Choosing to ignore Kabuto here?" he sneered, his thin, pasty face hardly visible in the room.

Kabuto's glasses glimmered, and she could see his smirk—she braced herself; no doubt that Kabuto expected Orochimaru to punish her in some way. She kept her face impassive.

"…No need to undergo those theatrics again," said Miho.

"You seem to enjoy life back in Konoha. Wish to stay?"

"Not in the slightest. I assume you're here to tell me my orders."

"Ah, such an obedient child. I meant to tell you: the Suna official thought you were an absolutely delectable desert flower."

Miho's eyes flickered. "Charming. I can hardly say the same."

Orochimaru chuckled and crossed his arms as he surveyed her. "Pity…you really are quite beautiful. It would've been so interesting to make you a vessel…but no, there was no purpose in living as a Healer with a kekkei genkai that can only save others. I was much better off leeching off of you and your delightful blood…"

"What do you want?"

"Patience, Miho. You should be happy—I've given you a few weeks of freedom, have I not? I'm in a good mood—please don't spoil it with that crass tongue of yours."

"I've done what you wanted—I'm back in the village without suspicions. What else do you want me to do?"

Orochimaru sighed. "We certainly still have quite a few kinks to even out with your personality…perhaps I really should try the cursed seal on you—"

"It wouldn't work," said Kabuto. "She has a rather frail body—it would no doubt kill her."

"I know that," said Orochimaru with a tinge of annoyance. "It was merely an empty threat. Of course I couldn't kill her—her blood is simply too marvelous." He brought up two vials in his hand, the clinking sound of glass surprisingly intimidating to her ears. "We need a little more, Miho."

Orochimaru tossed them over to her, along with a needle. She caught them and examined them.

"These clean?" she said.

"Kabuto sanitized them."

"No doubt he dipped them in some sort of disease first," she muttered, letting the needle rest in her chakra-filled palm and sanitizing it herself.

Wordlessly, she inserted the needle into her wrist and drew out the necessary amount of blood. Miho could feel herself growing more and more tired with every drop that appeared in the vials; trying hard to not let her exhaustion show, she capped them and threw them back at Orochimaru, who caught them lazily.

"Careful there, dear," he said, handing them to Kabuto who tucked them into a satchel. "We wouldn't want it to spill, would we?"

"Is that it?" she said, leaning against her pillows and breathing in harshly. She knew that the thin veil of sweat on her face had not escaped his attention, for Orochimaru's sneer widened at the sight.

"No, of course not," he said sycophantically. "Are you well enough to pay attention, though?"

"Stop beating around the fucking bush," she snarled, finally snapping.

Miho felt her breathing constrict as Orochimaru's killing intent soared; her already limited breaths became virtually non-existent as the sensation of death overwhelmed her, and then it was all gone within another second, and she was left gasping and shuddering while Orochimaru looked onto her with that same sort of fake concern. Kabuto was delighted.

"You should really learn to watch yourself," Orochimaru said. "I was in such a good mood, too…nevertheless, your orders: you will wait here, not attracting any attention, while the Chuunin exams proceed. The Suna and Oto Genin will be arriving shortly; I expect both of them to get through to the third round of the exams. The plan will be executed as I told you before you came; our goal is to kill the Sandaime."

"And is that it?" she rasped.

Orochimaru chuckled. "Of course not, but I don't trust you, and for good reason. You will merely await the orders as they come. Should you deter from our original plans, be forewarned that I'll know."

"Wonderful," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It is, isn't it? That'll be all—watch yourself well, Miho."

There was the whirring of wind, and the curtains in the room billowed eerily; she blinked, and they were gone.

* * *

"Are you all right, Miho?" said Kakashi as he sat down next to her bed.

"Mm…" She rolled over stiffly to face him. Her eyes fluttered closed as Kakashi gently brushed her forehead, checking her temperature.

"You're a bit warm. Do we need to go to the hospital?"

"No, I'm fine," she said reassuringly. "This happens once in a while—I just feel a bit tired. It'll go away if I stay in and sleep."

"Are you sure?"

Miho smiled wearily. "Aren't people getting suspicious that you're spending so much time with me?"

"If by people, you mean Naruto, then sure, why not."

"I don't think he's the only one saying that I've somehow seduced Konoha's White Fang."

"And if I said that they perhaps might be right?"

There was a slight pause as Miho registered with a sigh what he said; she'd suspected what Kakashi was doing a few days ago and was hoping she was wrong, but clearly not. She sat up gingerly and faced him.

"When I asked you if you had someone special in mind," she said slowly, "did you mean me?"

"Perhaps," said Kakashi simply.

Miho smiled wryly. "Try as you might, Kakashi—you won't fool me. I only asked you if you had someone special because I was certain you would say no. The fact remains that you are still as emotionally detached as you were five years ago, and the feelings you harbor for me remain nothing more than a caring senpai for his protégé."

Kakashi raised his eyebrows. "And you can be so certain because?"

"Because you're not even offended that I said that you're faking," she said, leaning back on the bedstead. "And because I, at the end of the day, I knew you well, better than most, and I know that everyone you cared for deeper than the norm has already died, and you have no intention of feeling that degree of hurt again."

There was a long silence, and while Miho looked steadfastly at him, she could not help but feel apprehensive, though at the same time, relieved. She had been afraid of what Kakashi had been subtly exhibiting and was glad that she'd gotten it in the open so soon—she was not used to kindness being displayed towards her, and even less used to turning it down.

"You're quite right, as always, Miho," said Kakashi quietly. "That part of me…it did not quite disappear, but it certainly faded when Rin died." He let out a sigh. "I didn't mean to startle or irritate you—but I have my own reasons."

Miho smiled bitterly, and even though she knew that she shouldn't be kind to Kakashi, shouldn't build a relationship with him because he didn't know that she was capable of betraying her village, didn't know she was capable of many worse things…she reached out and touched his masked face lightly.

"When I told you that I liked you, five years ago," said Miho, "I was sincere. You know me—my crush may have seen immature, but I genuinely liked you. But that like, senpai, no matter what it may have been, could not compare to what I felt for Itachi."

His gaze reached hers sharply, warily, as Miho dropped her hand down to her side; they had not breached this subject since her second day back in Konoha, and Miho never volunteered information. More than anything, she never admitted that there was something between her and Itachi, something unexplainable that drove her to believe him quite the way she had: blindly and foolishly.

"Your answer to my confession back then changed nothing," she said softly. "In the end, the ending would've been the same. What happened was between me and him. Don't blame yourself for thinking that you could've changed the past."

"That's not quite all," said Kakashi.

"I know. You think that if I can somehow remember what it feels to…like someone again…I'll forget about finding Itachi," she said oddly. "And I'm telling you—it doesn't work that way. I'm in deeper than you think."

"Revenge leads you nowhere, Miho."

"Your words are lost on me. Save them for Sasuke."

"What makes you think I can get through to Sasuke when even you won't listen?" he said, and for the first time, she caught an anger in his voice. "Do you think it's that simple? You find him, you kill him—and then what? Then you will have nothing else in your life to do—you will spend the rest of it, unfulfilled and wasted, hateful that you could not understand the true worth of life, regretful that you could not find something beyond merely revenge. Then what will you do?"

"Then I'll come back," she said, "unburdened and free, and if your offer still stands, I'll take it, settle down, and live."

"It won't happen like that," said Kakashi coldly.

"Probably not," she shrugged. "The more plausible outcome would be that Itachi will kill me instead."

"Then why—"

"I don't know," she said flatly. "I don't, I don't know why I can't let it go—but the only think I thought of when I woke up was that I so very desperately wanted to see his face when he found out that I had survived."

"…When you woke up?" repeated Kakashi.

Miho cursed inwardly; she had unintentionally slipped…

"You know what I mean," she said, hastily recovering herself. "When I remembered everything."

Kakashi still seemed dubious, but she couldn't tell from his mask. Regardless, he had outstayed his welcome. His prodding and his attempts to persuade her had made her out-of-sorts; in the end, he was the best at arousing her conscience.

"I'm tired, Kakashi."

That was all she needed to say. Kakashi's expression—or what she could see of it—cleared, and he patted her lightly on the head.

"I hope you're not angry with me, Miho."

She shook her head noiselessly.

"I'll let you sleep then."

* * *

_I made a major mistake, that day with Kakashi. He acts the same, he is still kind…but I can sense his wariness. His eyes are on me when he thinks I'm not looking at him. I can't help but feel that he's being asked to watch me—which means that the Hokage doesn't trust me. Oro-prick is going to be a little upset…that being a huge understatement. _

_Chuunin exam begins tomorrow. Sasuke came over for dinner today, and he seems jittery. Excited, perhaps. He asked me what I did for my Chuunin exam. _

_I truthfully don't remember. I just remember Otou-san not caring very much because…_he_'d become a Chuunin ages ago. _

_And in the end, all the miseries of my life circle back to him._

* * *

Miho had to mask her anger and disbelief for the entire duration of the third preliminaries; only when Sasuke's fight had ended and Kakashi had left with him to seal the curse did Miho see that the man who was certainly Orochimaru disappear as well. Not bothering to tell Sakura or Naruto where she was going, she hurried down the staircase and followed Orochimaru's chakra outside, which then shortly joined Kakashi's and Sasuke's as she turned around a corner and delve deeper into the forest. Miho quickly suppressed her chakra and hid in the shadows of a tree; she was not close enough to hear, but she had no need to. No doubt Kakashi would be warning Orochimaru of his return to the village…she would only intervene if Orochimaru tried to kill him, but she doubted that she'd be much help anyway, honestly…

Thankfully, Orochimaru left without a confrontation, and Miho followed him stealthily as she kept the rage boiling in her veins from resurfacing in her chakra; how _dare_ he put that cursed seal on Sasuke—she'd completely missed it, so preoccupied she was with the orders to kill the Sandaime, and then her own attempts to sneak into Konoha library and research. Orochimaru stopped at the edge of the forest, and Miho finally stepped out.

"What the hell are you planning?" she said coldly.

Orochimaru stiffened as he turned around, his snake-like eyes lighting up in surprise as he saw her.

"Miho, Miho, Miho…your sneakiness has go to stop. I'm starting to get alarmed with my inability to sense you."

"Cut the crap, Orochimaru," she snarled. "When did you ever mention you were going to do that to Sasuke?"

"I wasn't aware of your affinity for the boy," he answered. "He looks remarkably like Itachi, doesn't he? The Uchiha breed such beautiful men."

"Orochimaru."

"Why are you so surprised, Miho?" he sneered. "You know what I desire: immortality, for immortal knowledge. What better way to obtain it than take the immaculate genes and ability of the Uchiha clan? You are familiar with their brilliance, Miho—I assure you that Sasuke-kun's eyes will soon surpass Itachi's, and by that time, he will be ripe for the plucking."

"You're such a sick bastard—"

"But what can you do about it?" said Orochimaru. "I gave you everything you need to find Itachi, Miho, and gave you a fighting chance to even kill him. It is because of _my_ testing that your abilities are so advanced—"

"You gave me nothing," she spat. "You gave me pain, torture, experimentation—everything I have, Orochimaru, is a result of my own ability and nothing else! Do not drag Sasuke into this—"

"Miho," said Orochimaru with a patient sigh, "you misunderstand me. My curse is merely an appetizer, a temptation for Sasuke-kun to get a taste of what true power is…do you think I aim to kidnap him? That would just lead to multiple escape attempts and trouble, much like your case. I assure you, Miho, that Sasuke-kun will come find me of his own volition, and by that time, nothing can be said that will waver his desire for greatness."

Orochimaru bared a serpent's smile as his yellow eyes gleamed.

"You two aren't so different, you know. He will betray his village for power, much like you will—because in the end, the information that I am hiding about Itachi is more important than anything, isn't it? You won't tell anyone a thing because killing Itachi is what keeps you living. I really should send him a thank-you card, for sending two such wonderful specimen in my direction."

He turned to leave, but spoke once more before he did, and his voice did not contain the same kind of oily slipperiness that it normally did, and instead was menacing and terrifying.

"…It has not escaped my notice, Miho, that you are becoming a bit too wild for adequate control. I have already begun training a sensor of your caliber; take note that sooner than later, you will no longer be needed on field, and keeping you locked up is enough for your blood. I will not deal with your tolerance for much longer." He turned around, and Miho shuddered at his intense killing intent. "Do take heed to control yourself."

He disappeared from sight, and when he did, the air cleared, and Miho let out a breath that she wasn't aware she'd been holding.

Orochimaru was right. There was not much more time.

* * *

_350 official missions. 53 D-rank, 152 C-rank, 134 B-rank, 0 A-rank, 1 S-rank._

_Truthfully, I'd expected more A-rank or S-rank…but it's possible that they didn't record them all. The information about him is sparse and generic in the public access bingo book, only that he is an S-rank criminal across all the villages. _

_The library has mostly no information on him in particular, albeit a rather biased biography of the Uchiha clan, seeing as it was written by an Uchiha. There is virtually no information on Akatsuki either—one would think that an organization that has S-ranked criminals in it would've been heard of…but I can't say anything either. I only have that one name to go by, dropped carelessly by Orochimaru when he thought I wasn't listening._

_It's frustrating. I don't think I can get anything unless I access the Hokage's personal records. Which means that the invasion will have to happen because I need time to find them._

_And then, after I do, I'll give Orochimaru hell._

* * *

She waited. Waited as the sun blazed down on the stadium, as Gaara and Sasuke fought, and while everyone else's attention was on the two combatants, she watched that one person in the back of the stadium, his ANBU mask white and glaring in the sunlight.

There was a surge of chakra from the arena and Miho spared a second to glance down; it was an inhuman level of chakra emanating from Gaara's absolute defense of sand, and she gritted her teeth. If she had been informed correctly, this wasn't supposed to happen. She swiveled her gaze back to the corner of the room, and the ANBU member brought up his hands in a seal, and there was a slight nod as the genjutsu activated and everyone around them fell asleep.

Miho brought her hands together for the genjutsu deflection; next to her, Gai and Kakashi did the same. There was an explosion from the Top Box, and she knew that Orochimaru and his cronies had begun the Operation. Shinobi hidden in the crowd gathered around them, but any number was useless against Kakashi, who sent them flying easily.

Miho stopped spending the extra effort to make her chakra levels apparent and let them drop and disappear. Kakashi turned around instantly.

"Miho!"

He looked almost confused at the sight of her still standing there, untouched, unlike her chakra indicated.

"Why—"

She disappeared behind him and, with swift dexterity, cast off the bandages around her wrists that hid the Summoning seals before she Summoned a thin sword and held it at his neck.

"Kakashi!" shouted Gai, throwing off an assailant and heading in their direction.

"Stop," said Miho coldly. "You don't want to see his throat slit, do you?"

"What are you doing, Miho?" said Kakashi quietly.

"Nothing," she answered. "Orochimaru is after the Sandaime's life—there's about a fifty-fifty chance of whichever one surviving, but taking into consideration his age, the Sandaime will most likely die. That's not the biggest problem though—whatever you do, make sure Sasuke doesn't go to Orochimaru, no matter how much he wants to."

She blocked Kakashi's arm from elbowing her and held it tightly in place.

"Then whose side are you on?" Kakashi demanded.

"No one's. I hold allegiance to no village, no person; I am enslaved by nothing but my own revenge. I told you before, Kakashi—I'm in much deeper than you think, and I've been long past saving."

She saw Gai throw an oncoming ninja in their direction and she ducked instantly. The victim hit the wall with such force that he went flying through it, leaving a hole and an escape route through the stadium.

Miho sensed Kakashi's body twist from her distracted hold and she dropped her sword, ducking under his chakra-laced swipe and aiming for the hole. He caught her shoulder and held it tightly in place; she gritted her teeth as electric current jolted through it, numbing it. She whirled around, her chakra invisible, swept down low and aimed a solid kick upward; Kakashi moved slightly backward but she changed direction instantly, following his profile and connecting her foot with his chest. Upon contact, her strength amplified with chakra, and Kakashi was sent sliding back enough so that Miho dove for the hole and fell through it as more ninjas began to crowd the scene.

Her journey to the Hokage's office was short and swift; she chose the most deserted paths and encountered even less opposition at the office itself. All forces had been mobilized, leaving her search unhindered and free. She healed her arm along the way so that by the time she arrived within the office, her chakra was undetectable and her condition was pristine.

The secret records room was not terribly hard to find; her minimal time in ANBU and years of sneaking around Orochimaru's hideout lent Miho an eye for such things, and she'd found the room behind the lairs of a small closet. There were thousands of records, but Miho had time; she scanned through them quickly, one by one, eliminating by title and date; after her initial screening, she was left with less than a hundred scrolls, which she then sat down to peruse with renewed concentration.

Itachi was mentioned quite often, but it was in connection with the multitude of political missions he'd embarked on; essentially, Miho was not interested. Eventually, she learned the name Itachi essentially meant nothing. It was merely just the name of a tool, a method. No, the more obscure records always had to deal with the Uchiha clan as a whole, which befuddled her. If anything, she'd always thought of the Uchiha clan as a strong asset to the village—perhaps invariably and obstinately proud—but still an asset. The terms connected with them now, though, did not fit her picture of the Uchiha: troublemakers, power-hungry, superior…

The time ticked onwards, shielding from the chaos that reigned outside; when she allowed herself to stop and rest her eyes, her conscience nagged her and her guilt grew. She could imagine the screams outside, and Kakashi's stunned expression when she had turned against him. Here she was, a doctor by blood, letting the people around her die so she could gain some reading time…she blinked rapidly and shook her head—no, this as what she wanted, she'd already come to terms with this…and Miho resumed, letting the hours pass by as she grew more and more immersed in her reading, and each scroll began to take longer to read. She was only halfway through them when she sensed a group of chakra outside in the office. Kakashi and Gai were among them, but the rest, she did not recognize.

Miho grabbed a few scrolls and opened her own Summoning scroll, sealing the unread ones away and putting the rest back in order. She inched towards the door, careful to make her chakra unnoticeable and to mask any ill intent as she listened.

"…A disaster unbeknownst to our village," said an old man's voice wearily.

"The Sandaime…I hear he injured Orochimaru badly before he…" said Gai, the grief unmistakable in his voice.

Miho could not prevent the waves of guilt creep up…so the Sandaime had died. And Orochimaru was mortally wounded. She heaved a sigh. She could only hope that he would die of the wounds…though knowing that he had multiple stashes of her blood and Kabuto at his side, it was highly unlikely. She settled for wishing that he was in unbearable pain.

"Suna will be contacting us for further negotiations; apparently, they've been manipulated by Orochimaru."

"Nonsense," said an old woman's voice scornfully. "They are only making excuses for such a disgrace…"

"Now is not the time for political warfare," said Kakashi. "Preparations must be made to repair the village…and for the Sandaime's funeral."

"We have arranged for such things…it will take place in two days," said the elderly man. "In the meantime, please alert all the jounin to help with the village repair, and we will contact ANBU."

"One final thing," said Kakashi, "I ask that special attention be paid to Uchiha Sasuke. I have…received an alert…that he may go to Orochimaru willingly."

"Who told you such a thing?" said the old woman sharply.

Kakashi did not answer, and so Gai took his place.

"…Chiaki Miho has defected to the enemy."

"What?" screeched the old woman. "Kakashi, we told you explicitly to keep an eye on her—"

"She exhibited nothing peculiar in demeanor," said Kakashi tonelessly.

"That is not the point! That girl has been lying to us the entire time—I told you not to let your old judgments cloud your decision making; she has lied about everything! What amnesia? What Suna? What does she truly know?"

"Koharu," said the old man sternly. "Control yourself."

There seemed to be a double meaning behind his warning, one that Miho could not help but frown at. The councilwoman, Koharu, was feeling…Miho closed her eyes as she probed for the emotions…frightened, anxious, suspicious; what did Miho know? What was she supposed to know?

"Never mind," said Koharu tiredly. "Hatake Kakashi, Maitou Guy…alert the jounin. Carry out your duty. That is all."

There was murmuring, shuffling, and then Kakashi and Gai's chakra disappeared. Miho listened keenly as the councilwoman resumed speaking, her voice much lower than before, and muffled by the multiple walls that separated Miho and them.

"She may…the truth," said Koharu. "What do we do?"

"Nothing," said the councilman. "Now that Sarutobi…possible that…wait…"

Miho pressed her ear closer to the door, trying wildly to think of a jutsu that could aid her in this predicament, but then realizing that she could use nothing without being sensed.

But then the councilwoman spoke again, her voice clear.

"We must tread cautiously…keep alert…Itachi will be coming."

* * *

"Words cannot explain how deeply apologetic Suna is for this disaster," said the Suna official to Kakashi as he bowed low. "We have already discussed with our council and have agreed to an unconditional surrender to Konoha, and—"

"There is no need to be worried," said Kakashi, waving his apology aside. "We will work to rebuild Konoha and Suna's physical and political infrastructure; please work hard in choosing your new Kazekage as we work to choose our Godaime."

"We appreciate it," said the official straightening up. "We will be leaving now—Gaara, Temari, Kankuro—let's go."

"A minute," said Kakashi, stopping them as they stepped outside Konoha's gates.

They looked at him warily, almost frightened that he was going to punish them in some way. Kakashi smiled to alleviate their tension.

"I just had a question. You all knew Chiaki Miho, did you not?"

They looked at each other cautiously before turning their gazes back to him. It was Temari who answered.

"We did, yeah," she said. "Not well or anything—she came for collaborative meetings and stuff, and sometimes was in the hospital…"

"So she was with Orochimaru, not Suna," he clarified.

Temari nodded. "Yeah, with Orochimaru. She and that Kabuto guy were always with him…like his prime henchmen or something."

Kakashi unconsciously felt his stomach drop.

"She…told Konoha that she woke up with amnesia and was cared for by a Suna family while she worked in the hospital for four years—I assume this wasn't true."

Kankuro shook his head. "No, she didn't live in Suna. We were told to keep this alibi, though we weren't really sure what her purpose was."

"In fact…" Temari turned to her brother, "I don't think she was even doing her part of the plan."

"And that would be?" said Kakashi quickly.

"She was supposed to knock out most of the real ANBU members, because she was familiar with their formation, and then she was supposed to sneak up and kill the jounin that she could because her chakra hiding ability gave her that advantage."

"Has she always been able to hide her chakra like that?" questioned Kakashi.

"Yeah, the first time I saw her with Orochimaru, I thought she was just his…uh…I guess toy would be a better word for it," said Kankuro, wincing slightly. "She didn't exert any chakra at all—it was kinda creepy. But then she made it clear that she could fight…"

"I see," said Kakashi heavily.

"Don't be misled," said Gaara suddenly. His siblings turned to him, somewhat stunned that he'd spoken up at all.

Kakashi looked at the pale redhead intently.

"Meaning?" he inquired politely.

"…Orochimaru had her and the white-haired medic set examples of some Suna traitors for the rest of the council. She snapped their necks in two with her bare hands." Gaara turned to leave, his voice flat and monotonous as he spoke. "She's…disturbed. Volatile. Don't take her lightly."

* * *

_Nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing. _

_I am missing something here. The recordkeeping is unbearably cryptic, and everything just skates over the Uchiha clan massacre except for the documentation of actual event, in which every autopsy is carefully detailed. I now know that my father bled to death fifteen minutes after his throat was first slit, which means that I could've saved him. Fuck it all._

_Why are they so certain he will come? How long should I be waiting? What am I waiting for? I cannot hide here in Konoha forever. The guilt will end up consuming me. Clandestinely healing those in the hospital that I can at night doesn't cut it; the village was alive with mourning and the sky cried for the Sandaime's funeral, and…my heart could not help but convulse in the worst possible manner as I reminded myself: that is blood on your hands, Miho, blood that was spilled for your foolishness, your caustic abandonment of humanity._

_No, I cannot keep this up for much longer at all._

* * *

_Where is she_?"

"Please calm down, Orochimaru-sama," said Kabuto, sweat dripping down his forehead out of sheer nervousness. "We don't know where she is, I can't contact her and no doubt she took the opportunity to run—"

"_Find her!_"

"Don't move so much, Orochimaru-sama, you'll agitate what I've done to your arms—"

"You've done nothing!" screeched Orochimaru. "I cannot feel my arms—her blood is not working—"

"Because undiluted blood only works for poisons or flesh wounds—your hands have effectively been sealed—"

"_THEN FIND HER_."

Kabuto bowed and exited the room, leaving Orochimaru to lean against his chair, panting heavily. The pain was only exacerbated by his frustration at his uselessness; he ground his teeth together at the thought of Miho escaping. After he had warned her already…

"Karin!" barked Orochimaru.

It took only a few minutes for his voice to echo down the hallway before there was a scuttle and the entrance way, and a red-haired kunoichi with glasses appeared, her head bowed down.

"Yes, Orochimaru-sama?"

"It's about time to make yourself useful," he rasped. "You will double your own training and experimentation starting from now."

Karin blanched. "Double?"

"Yes," snapped Orochimaru. "Double—if you're that incompetent, then settle your focus on reading in long distances. I need you to be able to sense Miho from afar, without her noticing you."

"But…I can't sense her," said Karin blankly. "No one can—she suppresses and I—"

"I will ensure she uses her chakra when she returns," said Orochimaru coldly. "When she does, you need to alert me. Understand?"

Karin nodded. "But…what makes you so sure she'll come back?"

Orochimaru gave a twisted smile, one fueled by pain and fury. "I have something she wants. She'll definitely return."

* * *

_I snuck into the funeral procession today. A bit risky, perhaps, and I could not help but think that Kakashi may have glanced my way more than a few times. _

_What are humans? Where do we go? As I looked at the Sandaime's memorial photograph, I could not help but think—why did he die with a smile on his face? He had not killed Orochimaru, his own student…truly a kind-hearted but foolish man. Orochimaru did not have any qualms of killing him, I'm sure. _

_But does that man even count as a human? I heard Iruka saying: the most important thing is to die for a cause. Sandaime's cause was to protect Konoha. That much is clear._

_Yet…when I think to myself…I should've died that night, no doubt. So if I had died…what did I die for? What cause? Not love for Konoha…only fear and fury, ten minutes of trials and tribulations, idiotic love and lost purpose: no, I had no cause to die for, no passion to live for, and therefore nothing worth dying for._

_So when I think about myself now…granted with a twisted second chance at life…Kakashi's words come back to mind. What do I seek? Revenge? I know I can never kill Itachi—his skills will best mine no matter how much I try. But that's not all. The truth remains:_

_I do not know if I want to kill Itachi._

_It's bizarre. It's a cold, cruel twist of fate. _

_But the fact remains. I am purposeless._

* * *

Miho read her way through the scrolls multiple times. She could not deduce much, other than that the Uchiha were not regarded highly by the upper echelons of Konoha's politics; they were labeled as "disturbers of the peace," "superiority," "having an insatiable appetite for power…" It made sense, in a twisted, horrible way, if she took what she knew of the Uchiha and exaggerated it tenfold. Pride could be interpreted as power-hungry, and arrogance as steely superiority…but what was the point? This was not what she needed to find.

Miho rolled over on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. She had been staying in a hotel room for the last two days, her chakra fully concealed, her alias that of a visiting tourist from Kusagakure. She exhibited no murderous tendencies or fighting capabilities; her disguise was that of a beautiful woman, beautiful enough for the innkeeper to give her a free week's stay and room service to boot. Life was certainly easier for the lovely.

But in the confines of her room, Miho let down her disguise, and she was left with only her scowling, unremarkable reflection as company. Brow furrowed, journals and belongings scattering the room, Miho remained largely alone. Her sensing capabilities were fairly limited due to the degree of which she was hiding her own chakra, but it was enough to catch any threats that could've approached her out of suspicion.

She frowned in frustration as she ran the facts over in her head. Truthfully, though, why did the Uchiha's arrogance matter? It did not apply to Itachi—no, Itachi needed a motive…because no matter what Sasuke told her, "testing his capabilities" was a bullshit excuse. The Itachi she knew would've never massacred is entire family just because he needed to "test his capabilities."

But then again, what did she know? In the end, she would've never pinpointed Itachi as someone who could even fathom killing his family…but who did she know?  
Miho bolted upright in her bed, her heartbeat suddenly racing.

Hiroki. She knew him. Highly regarded the Uchiha…what had he said in that conversation she'd barely listened to: an essential part in the founding of Konoha, but shunted to the side as the police force…fascinated with their power, their genius…surely that wouldn't have gone unnoticed if the Konoha higher-ups were so conscious of the Uchiha pride.

She threw off the covers and began to disguise herself. It looked like she needed to pay another trip to the record room.

* * *

After five years, he had not expected himself to feel much when he saw Konoha again. Indeed, the place harbored no particularly warm memories for him; the only memories that were particularly fresh in his mind led up to the night of the massacre, and they were not memories he was fond of.

But he could not help but imperceptibly frown at the site of his home village in shambles, tattered and in ruin. Beside him, Kisame let out a low whistle.

"No need to beat up what's already broken, eh?" his partner grinned, showing rows and rows of teeth. "What do you think?"

"This village is already past its prosperity," replied Itachi, his crimson eyes barely flickering as he surveyed the hordes of people congregating in the streets to help with the repair. He wondered if Saske was among them. "No need to feel pity for it."

Kisame's grin widened. "Actually, you kind of missed it, didn't you?"

Itachi's expression did not change as he replied.

"No. Not at all." He beckoned lazily. "Come. Let's go."

* * *

Miho emerged from the records room undetected but more confused than ever. Hiroki had been tracked. His movements with the Uchiha had been marked. And in the end: _why_?

She wandered aimlessly in the streets, thinking, heading for the edge of the village where that old, familiar bridge stood. She needed the quiet, the clarity. Her journals documented her entire thought process, but they now ran in circles that never ended but never began; she was merely rehashing information that was slowly growing stale.

Akatsuki. The record room didn't even have much on them: just an international, underground organization full of S-Class criminals and no known motives. No one even knew where the base of the organization was, if it had any at all…but nothing tied the Uchiha massacre and Akatsuki together except for Itachi. It was here that Miho had a dilemma, because she could not help but feel that everything interconnected—she just didn't know how. What was she suppose to pursue: the past or the present?

She arrived at the bridge mindlessly, but right as she reached the other side of it, she froze. Someone's chakra—it was _enormous_—how had she missed it? Miho checked to make sure that no one was in her close vicinity before heading into the forest and, after sheltering herself in a tree, let down her disguises and expanded her sensing range.

The enormous chakra was unfamiliar but was surrounded by some she recognized. Asuma, Kurenai, Kakashi…she frowned as she closed her eyes and concentrated. There were dips and surges in chakra; they were fighting.

And someone else was with them…

Her eyes snapped open as her breaths came shallower and her blood ran cold.

It was him. There was no doubt about it.

She left without hesitation, abandoning her secrecy and letting the chakra carry her legs as quickly as they could go in the direction of the man who shamefully was all the purpose she had for living.

* * *

Itachi could feel the repercussions of the Mangekyou take their toll; the exhaustion came quickly, and accompanying it was a familiar arrhythmia that he masked from Kisame. Hatake Kakashi had collapsed on the water, subjected to three days' worth of torture; their main threat had been eliminated, and Itachi hadn't even had to kill him.

"You should be careful, Itachi-san," said Kisame warningly. "Those eyes tax your body considerably."

"What are you…are you after Sasuke?" panted Kakashi. Itachi was impressed that he was conscious at all.

"No," said Itachi. "We're after the Yondaime's legacy."

"Your target is the Kyuubi inside Naruto, isn't it?" said Kakashi, evidently struggling to remain conscious. "You've begun to make your move…you didn't think we'd know? Your organization's name…it's 'Akatsuki,' isn't it?"

Itachi and Kisame exchanged swift glances. It was going to be difficult to continue protecting the Konoha jounin—Kakashi knew too much.

"Kisame," he said coolly, "take them out. It's time for these people to disappear."

Kisame chuckled and moved forward to obey, but before he could enact the attack, another chakra joined them, and Kisame was sent skidding backward from the assailant's kick. Itachi looked on, unsurprised, as Maitou Gai straightened up in front of him.

"What the fuck…" Kisame muttered, "who the hell is this?"

Itachi was right about to reply when he abruptly felt a killing intent soar near him; he moved unconsciously and quite correctly at that, for a sword punctured right where he stood from below milliseconds later. The new attacker wasted no time following up and he struggled to parry the blows; Itachi could sense nothing, could nearly see nothing except for an ANBU mask that looked frighteningly familiar.

"Itachi-san!"

"Take care of the jounin," he called, skidding to a stop a few feet away as his attacker finally took a break, allowing him to survey who it was.

Still no chakra. It alarmed him, as did the mask. Who…where had he seen it…and he was not one to be alarmed, frightened, almost…so why did it…

"Your genius Uchiha mind should've put it together by now, right?" said a smooth female voice from behind that deadly mask, and it was a voice that rekindled something far away in his mind, a voice that chilled him to the bone. "Who else has a chakra you can't sense?"

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

The attacker pulled off her mask, and even upon seeing that face, Itachi did not fully believe.

"Hello, Itachi," said Chiaki Miho.

* * *

_free talk:_

_sorry about the false alarm today. here is the chapter, earlier than i'd intended! hope you enjoy._

_so...argh for shisui actually being good...in the words of one of my reviewers: "well this is awkward." :( sorry, i anticipated too soon..._

_and i messed with karin's timeline a little. i don't know when she started working for orochimaru, so my bad if i messed things up._

_hope you enjoyed it! :)  
please review.  
xoxo,_

_m.n _


	14. Knowing is Nothing

_thank you for your reviews! i really appreciate it. just a little note: it's possible that this fic's rating will go up to M in the future. just letting you all know._

_hope you enjoy~_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Knowing is Nothing**

Itachi was never a man of many words, but it didn't mean that he was ever at a loss for them. He was merely always anticipative—hardly did events even slightly surprise him, and in the rare occasion that they did, he was quick-witted enough to come up with a response of some kind. He'd even taken the news to kill his family with verbal assent.

And yet nothing, _nothing_, prepared him for Chiaki Miho to be standing in front of him, grown, alive, breathing, after five years of believing that she was dead. Of seeing, in his nightmares, her figure, pierced against a tree, bleeding as the ragged breaths slowly died from her lips.

And then in Itachi rose a fear—a great fear—of if his parents were alive, and if his family was actually alive, what they would be doing, what were they thinking of him—

"It's okay," said Chiaki Miho, tossing her mask onto the water below her. It sank down slowly, soon washed over by her rippling reflection. "I know what you're thinking, but you needn't worry. Your family is dead. I'm the only one that survived—other than Sasuke, of course, but you didn't mean to kill him."

She took a step towards him, and Itachi unconsciously took one back. It was becoming hard to mask his surprise and his fear—Miho was beautiful, but beautifully unhinged—the gleam in her gray eyes was hard and wild, the sword was spinning in her hand at a dizzying speed…the Miho he remembered did not speak calmly when angered, and so this difference startled him, made him wary…perhaps this wasn't her—it was an impersonator—yes, now that Itachi thought about it clearly…

This could not be Chiaki Miho.

Convicted of this realization, Itachi now reacted quickly with her attacks; she suddenly disappeared from his vision and it was only thanks to his Sharingan that he was able to keep up with her flow. Behind, to the left, then disappearing above—he reacted slower than he normally did because of her flitting and unreadable chakra, but Itachi didn't normally fight based on sensing chakra anyway. It was easier to read it, to see the crimson color in her legs and anticipate how she would attack then. Slowly but surely, his pace increased—his seals still came faster than hers, and soon, his movements did as well. He whirled around after parrying a series of purely taijutsu blows, anticipating her to repeat them but cautious when he saw her skid to the side, her expression unreadable.

"Who are you?" said Itachi coolly.

"You know who I am." She gave a razor-sharp smile.

"You cannot fool me—the girl you are attempting to impersonate is dead, I saw with my own eyes—"

"Miho," called a weary voice behind them.

Their attentions flickered to the jounin behind them, none of which were actually fighting as they seemed too interested in Itachi's reaction to pay attention to anything else. Kisame was sporting a toothy smirk, and somewhere under all the layers of numb shock, Itachi groaned silently. He was going to have to make up a story about Miho, especially since she was clearly not an Uchiha…

It was Kakashi who had called out, panting and struggling violently to stay awake. Miho's eyes flashed at the sight of him.

"Why…" said Kakashi.

"Don't take what happened before personally, senpai," she said. "It was all for this moment."

"Miho, don't do it."

She ignored Kakashi and instead turned to Itachi.

"You did that?" she said, nodding to her old mentor.

"…And what would you do about it?" he returned.

Miho smirked. "Genjutsu, right? He's not sporting a single physical wound—in the end, you like playing your mind games the most…isn't that right, Uchiha?"

Itachi frowned imperceptibly, hating with every cell in his body she said his clan name—with pure loathing, contempt, fury and hatred, and yet…calmly. He repressed a shudder, making the mistake of closing his eyes for a brief second—a mistake unlike him, but it was not everyday he bumped into someone he'd long thought dead—and in that infinitesimal moment, Miho appeared in front of him. Before he even moved, her arm garlanded his neck, and she smiled again, dangerously, and she spoke, and her voice was lilting and soft.

"Try playing them on me," she said, almost giggling. "Your little mind games, Uchiha. Your reassuring words that nothing is wrong. Your hand-holding, your silences. Your lunches, your necklace, your everything. Play them again." Her voice grew even softer. "One. Card. At. A. Time."

Her murderous intent spiked—Itachi broke away from his entrancement in the nick of time as that sword came swiping from behind and the figure in Miho's hold disappeared with a puff. In the midst of the smoke, he could hear Miho's voice calling out—loud, deranged, nearly shrieking.

"Kage Bunshin, Uchiha? What, don't like the idea of having a sword stabbed through you? That prospect isn't very pleasant, is it? But you don't have a problem doing that to other people, right?"

Again, a soaring intent right behind him that was nearly solid—Itachi ducked, but then he sensed a Kage Bunshin from below and was forced to twist midway and avoid its attack from beneath the water, which was followed up immediately by a roaring Katon—when had Miho learned to multitask like this, or create seals of such a speed—it was not a good time to fight—he was still weary from the Mangekyou—damn Kakashi—and for some reason Itachi knew that he had been deluding himself, that this degree of genuine insanity was not possible unless the woman in front of him was actually Chiaki Miho herself.

Perhaps Kisame found the fun to be over because he was finally noticing that Itachi was growing tired out and did not have enough chakra to an effective counter attack. His partner's gargantuan chakra disappeared from amidst the jounins and instead attacked towards Miho—ineffective though it was, it proved to be enough of a distraction for Miho to halt her relentless assault.

"Thank God your chakra's absolutely huge," smirked Miho, dodging easily. "If it weren't for your brute strength, this would be easy—unfortunately, it's not you I want."

Again, Miho evaporated from sight. But this time, Itachi had time to prepare—his Sharingan was swirling again, and though he did not have the stamina for another Tsukuyomi, basic genjutsu was enough. Miho had always been weak against it.

But as she neared, her smirk never failing, Itachi realized that he was making a grave mistake—she knew exactly what he was going to do and yet was not dodging, her eyes were wide-open, and just as he released the genjutsu, Miho's chakra peaked, her hands forming a seal that Itachi truthfully did not recognize. The genjutsu failed—he knew it did because Miho looked entirely unaffected, and while the counter-genjutsu did not affect him fully, he glimpsed a relapse of the past, his parents' dead bodies, Sasuke's crying fury, before all the sin faded and Miho was all that was in front of him again. Her chakra had depleted severely—she was panting and no longer had that demented smirk on her face. It seemed to have been a double-edged sword, requiring much chakra but successfully deflecting a difficult genjutsu…though it seemed like she had been expecting more, as if it were to damage him…which it hadn't.

"Damn," he heard her say between breaths. "_Damn._"

Now was the time to escape—the jounin were still in shock, it seemed, or they were too busy helping Kakashi, and Miho's movements seemed momentarily incapacitated. Itachi made swift eye contact with Kisame and nodded once.

"Wait," snarled Miho.

"If you managed to survive," said Itachi coldly, "then you should've been clever enough to learn that you shouldn't have wasted this second chance to life. I'll spare you this once, Chiaki Miho—it would be wise to never appear in front of me again."

With that, the Akatsuki members disappeared.

* * *

"Some fight, eh, Itachi-san?"

Night had fallen before Itachi had finally conceded that they could stop and rest. He was the most exhausted he had been in a long time and the familiar palpitations in his chest were starting to pain him, but he'd insisted on traveling for over two hours at full speed away from Konoha in order to throw off the shadow he knew was following them. Kisame had remarked that Itachi was losing his mind, but Itachi had calmly reminded him that Kisame's monstrous chakra was absolutely useless in all aspects when it came to running away—he was easily tracked, nor could he sense anyone himself. Itachi knew that Miho was going to be following them, her chakra undetectable, and he would not risk another run-in. It would be difficult to come up with another opportune reason to not kill her again.

Itachi breathed in deeply as he leaned against a tree in front of the remnants of their campfire.

"You okay there?" queried Kisame.

"I'm fine," he intoned.

"You should've been more careful with your eyes—you could've let me take care of them."

"Your fighting style is inefficient and messy," said Itachi, closing his eyes. "I wanted to leave quickly."

"And we could have, had it not been for that girl. Man…" Kisame stretched out his limbs, leaning instead against his trusty Samehada. "Well?"

"Well what?" said Itachi, knowing full well what Kisame wanted.

"The girl?"

"…I meant to kill her with my family," said Itachi coolly. "It seems that, for once in my life, I actually failed."

"She seemed pretty…uh…angry."

"I also killed her father, who was her only living relative," he said monotonously.

"Oh. Uh. Yeah…" Kisame seemed to find Itachi's lack of concern perturbing. "That might be a good reason…"

A silence settled between them as Itachi took a few moments to stabilize his breathing pattern as well as muster enough energy to allow his normal impassiveness to reign supreme both over his face and his body.

"It's odd, though," Itachi remarked.

He heard Kisame shuffle.

"What is?"

"I…" Itachi paused. "I was so certain I killed her. I saw her body…ascertained that there was no pulse myself."

"…She's got you riled up, Itachi-san."

"I dislike nonsense, Kisame-san," he answered with a trace of annoyance.

"Well, not riled up. What was she to you, eh? _Girlfriend_?"

Itachi could hear the mockery in Kisame's voice and snapped his eyes open, the Sharingan swirling ominously.

"Don't press my patience, Kisame-san," he said coolly.

"Oops, sorry," said Kisame, completely impenitent. "I forgot—the great Uchiha Itachi does not feel. Girlfriend—how thoughtless of me."

"Enough," said Itachi, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

Kisame only smirked. Sometimes Itachi had to wonder just how the man, nearly ten years older than he was, was such an idiot. But unlike most idiots, Kisame's bark matched his bite equally well, perhaps better, and Itachi was in no mood for a scuffle.

Most Akatsuki partners fought each other on a mission more often than they fought their targets. Such was not the case with Kisame and Itachi—for as much condescension Kisame verbalized, there was an understanding between the two of them that involved a mutual respect for the other, and each knew their boundaries. Kisame exhibited this knowledge now, when he gave Itachi a shark-like grin and backed down.

"Just kidding, Itachi-san. But all the same—why did you try to kill her? She's not an Uchiha."

Itachi did not answer.

"I'm asking this for your own good, Itachi-san," said Kisame seriously. "Things as significant as a dead person coming back to life is something we need to report to the Leader."

"I do not think she died and came back to life," said Itachi, again closing his eyes to rest. "I might've neglected a property of her kekkei genkai that night—it must've saved her."

"Her kekkei genkai?"

"…Chiaki Miho is the last carrier of the Ishachi, the bloodline of the Saruji Clan."

"Never heard of it," said Kisame lazily.

Itachi sighed as he continued. "It was an old clan in Konoha, wiped out now. At its prime, it was formidable in unconventional ways—the blood itself is the clan's weapon. It is a healing blood, chakra-infused. Drinking it will save the patient from mortal wounds; if drinking it isn't possible, then the actual Ishachi carrier can assimilate the wounds of the patient, hence bringing the damage onto him or herself."

Kisame looked impressed. "Nifty."

"Of course, this comes at a price," said Itachi. "Activation of the kekkei genkai marks the beginning of the end for the user's life. That was one of the reasons they died out—they died earlier than they could reproduce."

"And so…what business do you have with this last Ishachi girl?"

Itachi debated briefly, but the truth in such trivial matters did not affect anything. Miho's hatred had been so obvious that he highly doubted anything he owed to her mattered in the face of his ultimate betrayal.

"Chiaki Miho activated her kekkei genkai on her very first ANBU mission with me as the leader."

Kisame let out a low whistle. "And how old were you two? Ten?"

Itachi ignored him deliberately and continued. "The same kekkei genkai nearly killed me when I, not knowing its properties on the healthy body, drank it out of sheer curiosity—it ruptured my internal organs and hospitalized me for weeks."

Kisame no longer seemed so amused.

"I am also Chiaki Miho's first wound assimilation patient," intoned Itachi, as if he were reading out of a textbook. "Needless to say, we share a…peculiar history."

"But why kill her?"

It took a little while for him to respond. When he did, his voice came out much quieter than he had meant for it to be.

"Because she made me forget my capabilities…and challenged what I could become."

* * *

Memories_. _They'd long been buried, but are now rising from their graves, undead, unmerciful.

_Itachi, here's your new baby brother! His name is Sasuke. _The baby cooed and grabbed for his hair. _Remember, be kind, Itachi. He's your one and only brother. Your job as the older one is to protect him no matter what, okay?_

Pinwheels and fans.

_What's this?  
_He mumbles. He never mumbles. _Necklace.  
_She smiles, faint and knowingly. _Jealous, weren't you.  
_Adamant denial. Adamant regret.

_Nii-san, you always act like I'm a pest. Do I annoy you?_  
Of course not, Sasuke. Never would you annoy me.  
_C'mon, play with me! We can go training, okay? I just want to watch you in action!_

_You are the foundation of this clan—_

—_hope of this village—_

—_relying on you—_

_Why don't you live for yourself a little—_

_Your family—_

—_at your leisure—_

_Konoha—_

Her voice shrieks, he can hear it, can always hear it.

_I trusted you._

And Sasuke. And the ultimate question.

_Why?_

* * *

It was late in the night when Itachi abruptly woke up from his always light sleep, conscious that he and Kisame were not the only ones alone in the camp. His partner had fallen asleep on watch—the fool—but Itachi didn't blame him fully; they'd been traveling for days without stopping. Nevertheless, Kisame should've known better. It was good that Itachi had had the foresight to take some precautions.

"I'm impressed," said Itachi. "You followed us this far."

There was a rustling sound from the bushes and Miho emerged, her face pale but determined.

"I advise you not to take a step further," he said.

She stopped, wary.

"There are a few traps set around," he explained. "I may seem to be within reach, but the truth is, you've already been immobilized by genjutsu. You've lost. Before we continue, though, I'd like to ask a few questions."

"You really don't think I'll just sit here and answer them, do you?" she said icily.

"You want answers, I want answers. How did you survive?"

"I didn't."

Itachi moved on. "How did you live these last five years?"

Miho had that odd, insane smile again. "Wonderfully. How did you?"

Itachi did not answer. Miho's smile widened.

"How's Akatsuki treating you, Itachi?"

He stiffened. How did she know…she must've overheard Kakashi earlier. Damn him.

"Is it full of a bunch of sick fucks just like yourself?" she said. "Do you all have bonfire bonding time, exchanging stories on precisely how you killed your own families?"

"Enough," he said. "You wasted your time coming here, Chiaki Miho. You can never best me. Go home to Konoha and live there, grateful that you are alive. I assure you that you will never see me again."

"I want to ask you a question," she said, and when Itachi looked up, her smile had melted off her face, replaced by a dark, shadowed scowl that was much more familiar to his eyes.

"What?"

"…Why?"

Itachi scoffed, his eyes closing as a cool breeze pass through.

"Still asking this question?" he said. He found a way to ask the question he'd been dying to ask without arousing suspicion. "…How's Sasuke?"

Miho fell for it brilliantly. "You expect me to believe the bullshit excuse you gave him?"

Itachi didn't reply.

"He's like me," said Miho. "His existence serves to hate you."

He let out an inner sigh of relief. That meant Sasuke had a purpose…that he had a reason to grow stronger. It was comforting—other than Miho, everything was going the way he had planned.

"You don't expect me to believe you, Uchiha."

"Believe what you want to believe, Chiaki Miho. What makes you think my reasoning is wrong?"

"…You wouldn't do such a thing," she said harshly. "The Itachi I know—"

"But that's precisely the problem, Chiaki Miho. The Itachi _you_ know. But over these last five years, did the thought that you never knew the real Itachi cross your mind? You are bound, like any other simpleton, by your own subjective interpretation of your surroundings." To think that he would be giving her the speech that he had long prepared for Sasuke. "The truth you know is only the truth you want to see—life around you is an illusion, Chiaki Miho, that you cannot dispel."

"Are you done philosophizing yet?"

Itachi's eyes flickered open towards her. Her old temperament had evaporated, and back was the unhinged smile, the wild eyes. He was not threatened, but he was disturbed.

"You're right," she said. "I may have never known the real you. But there are places where you're wrong, Uchiha. I don't know a 'truth' at all, Uchiha, because I have no answers. But I will tell you what I _do_ know." Moonlight shown through the tree branches, casting speckled shadows on her face Itachi was grateful for—he could not stand her mad expression. "I know pain. I know torture. I know lies, deceit, and betrayal. I know hatred. And I know for a fact, Uchiha Itachi, that the one to pin me against that tree and left me to die, that the one to slit my father's throat right in front of my eyes was you, and that is the only truth I know, the only truth I need to know. You say I will never see you again. I can assure you, Uchiha Itachi, that as long as I live, I will find you. I will hunt you down. You cannot sense me, Uchiha. I will be lurking in every shadow behind you, watching you, waiting for you, so that when I go to hell, I'll drag you down with me."

Miho disappeared in a wisp of smoke, and Kage Bunshin or not, Itachi was glad she was gone.

But she wasn't. She had been wrong. She was not present in every lurking shadow, waiting for him past every corner.

She was in that journal sealed away in a scroll that he kept with him. And though he was glad to see her alive, he could not help but wish that her memory had remained sealed forever, along with his guilt.

* * *

Miho was struggling; her chakra supply was stretched to its limits as she stood rigidly in her hotel room, eyes closed in concentration as she tried to maintain the lifespan of the Kage Bunshin that was still following Itachi. It grew further and further away from her, and as the hours stretched on, she found herself praying that she did not keel over before she found him. She was just about to pass out when it came back to her, along with it its experience, and she knew where Itachi was, but he was too far for her to even dream of finding even if she set out now. By the time she was well enough to travel, he would be days away.

She did not even have enough energy to utter a low curse. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed, claimed by sleep before she even hit the mattress.

* * *

She woke up multiple times over the course of the next day, her thoughts in a jumble, her entire body feverish. She slept it off, like she always did when she was in pain or suffering, just because dreamless sleep always came with pure exhaustion. When she finally came to and was feeling well enough to sit up, the room was dark and the village outside quiet. It was four-thirty in the morning, over one full day later.

Miho lied back down on the bed, her head throbbing but in much better shape than she had been when she'd fallen asleep. Her chakra levels were not fully replenished, but it was enough—she needed to get back on track. She closed her eyes and willed her chakra to disappear, though at this point, if she had been caught, it wouldn't have been too hard to find her.

Truthfully, she wasn't sure if the shock had worn off. She could've nearly convinced herself that it had all been a dream, it seemed so surreal, but her physical condition was enough of a testament to prove otherwise. She had come face to face with Uchiha Itachi…and she had let him get away.

Miho rolled over, swearing. She could not stand it. She was back to square one—now that Itachi knew she was alive, she had wasted all element of surprise in her arsenal, and luck would not aid her so diligently again. Itachi would now do everything in his power to not cross paths with her again…but in reality, his power in that field was very limited. After all, _she_ was the tracker. She was the huntress. She would find him again—all she had to do was think, to put her brilliant—though not Uchiha-caliber—mind to use and pin together the pieces she was missing.

And so Miho thought. She recalled everything about Itachi—he looked older, his hair longer, grown a little bit but not too much. The blood-colored eyes—those had not changed. The black robes, the red clouds. Blue partner. Kisame was his name. She would have to look him up later.

What else?

Her mind whirred like a machine freshly oiled—while her body ached, her brain made up for her uselessness: counter-genjutsu did not work on Itachi; she had failed in that assumption, and that was what had allowed him to get away. He had been severely depleted of chakra, right from the start of her fight with him, which was pathetic since she had not been able to land a single blow. But why had his chakra levels been so low?

Rewind, rewind. He'd fought Kurenai, Asuma, and Kakashi prior. None of them had been injured except for Kakashi with genjutsu. Miho bit her lower lip. Just genjutsu? But genjutsu did not wound…it immobilized, but Kakashi had had no physical injuries…it exhausted the mind beyond further use, which was what Kakashi had seemed to be, but still…Kakashi had Sharingan—it had to be one hell of a genjutsu to render him immobile…

Miho gritted her teeth. Great. So she knew that Itachi had learned a strong genjutsu.

That got her nowhere.

Think harder, remember, everything about him, his tone, his voice, his appearance; he had been wearing his Konoha headband, though there had been a strike through the symbol; his fingernails had been painted—bad fashion choice; hands were worn from training, there had been a ring on his finger, with the sign for "vermilion"—

Miho bolted upright, her breath coming short, her weak control over her chakra slipping as it spiked aberrantly. She had seen a ring like that before, on a wrinkled, wasted hand in one of Orochimaru's inner chambers. It was not exactly the same as Itachi's, instead a slate blue color, with the character for "sky" on it. And now that Miho thought about it…she could've sworn she'd seen Kisame wearing a ring as well.

Her heartbeat quickened. What did it mean? Was it like a membership card? A sign of status?

In what?

The answer was so obvious, Miho couldn't believe she'd ever called herself brilliant.

Orochimaru had been part of Akatsuki. And she had never even thought of it.

Another string of swear words flew from her mouth as she tossed off the blankets and began to dress. She needed to pay Kakashi a visit.

* * *

"Here?" said Karin uncertainly, drawing a thin string of steel wire around the room's door.

"Yes," said Kabuto.

"Uh…what's all this is for?"

"Orochimaru-sama said it's a trap," explained Kabuto, "for when Miho returns—she will certainly want to access this room."

"So these traps require her to use chakra in order to unlock the door."

"Precisely."

"And I will be on standby right outside of her sensing range so that I can detect her."

"Yes."

Karin was clearly dubious.

"…Can I…like…mention the many holes I see in this plan?"

"It won't make a difference."

"How do you even _know_ she's going to come back? I mean, really? All the hell she's caused for Orochimaru-sama—do you think she'll honestly want to come back to this shit hole?"

"You live in said shit hole, so you might want to change your terminology," said Kabuto dryly. "She'll come back—Orochimaru-sama is sure of it."

"And so even if we do catch her, how are you going to make her stay? She's a sensor—you need her out on the field. How are you going to control her?"

"Karin, Karin," sighed Kabuto, "why don't you understand? The whole point of _you_ is to replace _her_. With _you_, she will not be required on the field. Orochimaru-sama can control her fine within the confines. You needn't worry about it."

Karin unconsciously shuddered. Kabuto's grin widened at the sight of her fear for Miho's obvious punishment. Once he had his hands on her, Orochimaru would make sure that her life was a living hell. And nothing delighted Kabuto more than the prospect of arrogant Chiaki Miho's suffering.

* * *

As much as Miho respected the field of psychology, she found the practice of it to be utterly useless. The world was full of too many fucked up people for anyone to be pretending that he was sane—and Miho was probably the most fucked up person of all.

She was vaguely aware of her own mental instability when it came to Itachi, the sheer irrationality of it all. And so when she looked down at the fitfully sleeping Kakashi, she could not help but feel guilty for betraying his trust…and for coming to him for the answers she sought. Nevertheless, Miho placed her hand on Kakashi's perspiring forehead and allowed the chakra to run through to her palm. She'd stolen the patient report and had glanced through it; it seemed that no one in Konoha knew what to do with Kakashi, who, no matter what, wouldn't wake up. Itachi's genjutsu hadn't just been strong—it'd been terrorizing. Miho was a fool to believe that she'd ever had a chance.

But when it came to medical issues, Miho was confident that the only person more skilled than her was Senju Tsunade, and she was an old granny by now, maybe even dead. If only her teammate were dead too—then Miho would never have to see Orochimaru's slithering face ever again.

She turned her attention back to her senpai. Healing Kakashi was not an issue—it was making sure he wouldn't attack her when he awoke that was.

She tensed her body as Kakashi's shivering subsided, and then it was only a matter of time…

His eyes opened blearily, and it took him less time than Miho had anticipated to register his surroundings. His gaze fell on her and his attack was immediate. She was thankful that he was weak and tired, for she caught his outstretched fist easily and pushed him back, a kunai pressed roughly against his throat.

"I'm not here to kill you," she said quietly.

"That might not be the case on my part," he said, breathing haggardly.

It was an empty threat. A visible wince passed over his face and his arm fell to his side. Kakashi's breathing grew more and more labored, and Miho, worried, loosened the kunai slightly. It seemed that he was not faking it, for he didn't take advantage of her weakness, and instead his eyes fluttered closed as he focused on his own condition.

"Please don't attack me," said Miho softly. "I'm going to see what I can do, all right? Hold still."

She dropped the kunai completely and brought both arms up to the sides of his head. Friendly chakra flowed down to her palms; Miho closed her eyes as she rested his forehead against hers, blacking out her surroundings save for the streams of green rippling between them. Kakashi's head was a mess; all control over chakra was stilted and the pain was amplified by his brain and nothing else. Miho did what she could, her chakra slipping through his, resetting the pathways, reducing the swells. Minutes passed until she could hear Kakashi's breathing finally stabilize.

"Better?" she said, sliding away from him.

Kakashi said nothing, but his glare was evident.

"What are you here for?" he demanded.

Miho sighed, tossed the kunai over at him, and held up her hands to show that she was unarmed.

"I wanted to ask you a few questions," she said.

"Do you think I'll just answer them after what you did?"

"I have never loved this village," she said sharply, "but don't think I don't feel guilty for it. You're not the only person who woke up in his hospital room, strangely healed."

Realization flashed over his face.

"Those strange cases were you?"

She nodded impatiently. "But that's not the point. I want to know a few things, and after I have my answers, I guarantee that I'll get the hell out of Konoha and you'll never have to see me again."

"Or I'll take you to prison and we could continue this conversation with you behind bars."

"Kakashi—"

"Do you realize what you've done, Miho?" said Kakashi seriously. "Healing those you could in the hospital doesn't cut it—the Hokage is dead, Miho, our village is in shambles—"

"_Your_ village would be gone if I'd done my part of the plan, and _you_ would probably be dead!" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "You don't understand what it's like, Kakashi! Telling me that nothing is worse than living alone—I know that! But at least Sasuke lived comfortably, he lived here, at home, with you and his friends—you don't know what a sick fuck Orochimaru is, Kakashi, but if you did, then you would understand exactly what I did and why I did it: I did it to survive." Her voice dropped now, but she could see a red haze cloud her vision, like it always did when she felt herself grow irrational, frightening, mad. "There was nothing that pushed me to survive in that hellhole more than knowing that Uchiha Itachi was still alive, because he was all that kept me going. I would've killed myself a long time ago if I didn't have him as a reason to live."

Miho was breathing harshly by this point and forced herself to lean back in her seat. Her chakra was slipping out of her control again; she let a few minutes of silence pass so she could recover herself.

"I won't force you to answer these questions," she said, letting her head rest in her hands. "I respect you more than that. But I'm asking you…begging you to give me them."

"…Miho, don't—"

"Stop," she said softly. "There's no point—we both know that I'm going to go insane if I don't find him."

She could tell that he had sensed the creeping edges of madness in her as well. What he did next, though, was so surprising, so kind, so tender that if Miho hadn't known better, she would have burst out crying. Kakashi's arm slinked around her shoulder and pulled her into an awkward embrace, his fingers padding her skin lightly in comfort. She heard him sigh, weary and resigned, before he spoke again.

"In the end, I still can't bring myself to believe that the Miho I know could turn into a Miho I can hardly recognize," he murmured. "I have borne my own burdens…I have seen my own friends and family die before me…and yet why is it that I can't convince you to turn away from this? Why will you continue, Miho, when you yourself know…just how terrifyingly different you are when it comes to Uchiha Itachi?"

Miho didn't answer because she had none. She just stared unseeingly at the wall in front of her, tired, unwilling to talk about her changes and the red haze and the guilt.

Kakashi exhaled again.

"To think that I'm sitting here, hugging one of the most wanted kunoichi in the village now," he said, letting them grow apart. "I seem to have more faith in you than I thought."

Miho smiled wryly.

"All the same…Uchiha Itachi is not someone you can take on," said Kakashi. "Miho, you should stay in Konoha—if we work together and—"

"Those are empty words, Kakashi. We know it can't work like that."

Kakashi said nothing and let her go so that they could properly face each other. The staring match did not last long—they knew the truth of the matter and the convictions of either side.

"Let's hear your questions," he said finally.

A wave of relief. "What do you know about Akatsuki?"

"Not much," admitted Kakashi. "An underground organization of nine S-Class criminals…there has been little activity of the last few years, and I hadn't heard of them before. All the information I know is from Jiraiya."

"Jiraiya?" repeated Miho. "As in, one of the Sannin?"

"Mm," he nodded. "He's been following the organization for a while, and was the one to warn me about them coming after Naruto—which they did."

"Why?" she asked.

"Apparently, they're trying to collect all the Jinchuuriki—for the tailed beasts inside of them. What their goal is after collecting these beasts is beyond my understanding."

"I see," said Miho, thinking. "Why did Jiraiya follow the organization?"

She already knew the answer before Kakashi voiced it aloud.

"Because Orochimaru joined it."

"Tch…that bastard…no wonder he knew things about Itachi…"

"Don't be mistaken," said Kakashi warningly. "I believe Orochimaru had his own agenda. He's left Akatsuki."

Miho made an aggravated noise. She had been trying to avoid it, but now it seemed impossible—she needed to make a trip back to Orochimaru's lair. She gritted her teeth at the thought; no doubt he was furious and looking for her, since she was too precious of a specimen to let loose…it would be a huge risk to return, but something told her that those rings were significant, that Akatsuki would come looking for it…

"I hear the Sandaime wounded Orochimaru badly—how?"

"…We're not entirely sure," said Kakashi slowly. "It seemed to be something along the lines of sealing away his hand…and hence forever seal away his jutsu."

That was not a permanent solution, but no one in Konoha knew that. This piece of news only shortened her time frame—if Orochimaru did not manage to heal himself, then he would go for a body replacement—she had to strike now, when he was weak and preoccupied by his wounds…

Kakashi seemed to guess her train of thought.

"Miho. It's not safe."

"Nothing ever is, senpai."

"No, you don't understand, Orochimaru—"

"Oh, I think I do understand," said Miho quietly. "I think I understand him very well."

Kakashi fell silent, his expression hesitant and concerned. Miho sighed and stood up.

"Thanks for everything, senpai," she said. "You're still not a hundred percent healed, so be sure to rest, all right?"

"Miho."

"Don't worry about me. You shouldn't, honestly. I'm not your little protégé anymore—I'm probably an S-class criminal now."

"Something along those lines," said Kakashi heavily.

Miho bared a thin smile. "Goodbye, Kakashi."

She was almost out the window when he spoke again.

"Miho. In the end, Konoha is your home. You are always welcome back."

Oh, what Kakashi didn't know. She had abandoned Konoha a long time ago.

But she gave him a small wave, an even smaller "Thank you," and then she was gone, but not without the residing guilt, a transparent hope, and the boiling resentment for Orochimaru, for Itachi, and for herself for robbing her of peace.

* * *

Miho moved with ultimate precaution, or at least, she tried. Speed was of the essence though, and truthfully, she had enough confidence in her chakra sensing to get in and out of the lair undetected. All that mattered was the timing: making sure Orochimaru was away, preferably Kabuto as well, and then going into that inner chamber where that grotesquely withered hand stood…

It took her a full day and night to travel, and try as she might to come up with a failsafe plan, she could not. Too many unknown factors lied in her way—she could only pray that Orochimaru was busy writhing in pain and Kabuto busy attending to him.

It was nearly dawn when Miho paused on the outskirts of the underground base, sensing intently. Orochimaru and Kabuto were in the chambers in the far east…and her destination was far southwest. Guards were easily avoidable…should she wait? But for what? The darkness could help her hide, and there were only a few hours left before sunrise…

She went for it. No preparations, just teeth ground together as she ensured that her chakra was undetectable as she raced for the chamber. Every once in a while, a sentry would do a double-take as she turned around a corner, but Miho was a master at infiltration and lurking in the shadows…

The door was set with traps, but that was to be expected. She cut through the steel-wires effortlessly and used the barest minimum of chakra to deactivate the poisoned needles; it was not like Orochimaru could sense her from so far, anyway. All of this was rudimentary, easy, almost, but she held her breath as she entered the room, and it was empty, like she'd sensed. And there was the hand, the ring glistening on it, the character for "sky" easily visible—

Miho sensed it too late. Orochimaru and Kabuto's chakra levels were moving in her direction at a frightening pace—how had they known? It was impossible—she lunged for the ring but it was sealed to the hand; she needed time to figure out how to unseal it, but did she have the time—they were closing in—but—escape or the ring, Miho—yourself, or Itachi—

She began to examine the hand; just a few seals, trying dragon, ox, horse, maybe it was a chakra key—

"You should've run while you could, Miho," said Orochimaru's voice behind her.

She turned around, unable to repress the flighty bouts of panic and fear. Orochimaru looked to be in terrible shape: drawn pallor, heavy breathing, visible signs of perspiration and pain—but even in terrible condition, Orochimaru was still too much for her to take on.

"How did you know?" she said breathlessly, biding her time.

"I did tell you I was going to replace you," he sneered. "Karin, a job well done."

A red-haired kunoichi with framed glasses lurked in the behind him, and Miho realized that she could only barely sense her.

"I see…a distance sensor."

"Precisely. Her range is farther than yours, but she could not sense you unless you used your chakra," said Kabuto. "Hence, our sad little traps—which in the end, were perfectly effective."

"Your blood is marvelous, Miho," said Orochimaru, clearly strained with the conversation. "I wonder—will it heal my arm?"

Miho chanced a glance down at Orochimaru's left arm; she could sense no chakra flowing into it, and by the looks of it, Orochimaru had no control over his limb either. It dangled limply by his side, wound in bandages, a rotting arm that was as good as amputated.

"No," she replied. "It won't."

Orochimaru sneered. "We won't know until we try, will we?"

Miho lunged for the exit, but she knew it was futile without even trying. Orochimaru caught her with a brutal kick to the stomach that sent her flying across the room. She felt someone grab her by the hair and yank her upright before she could recover. There was a stinging sensation near her throat; she glimpsed Kabuto's flashing glasses and a needle in his right hand.

"Hand her over to the prisoners in the dungeon," said Orochimaru's snide voice as the sedative kicked in. "They've been wanting a little entertainment. Just make sure she's awake for it."

* * *

It seemed that Miho's little counter-genjutsu proved to be more effective than she'd anticipated, only that the effects were long-term rather than immediate.

The memories continued, flashing back to times that Itachi had long forgotten.

_I'm number one in my class, Nii-san! Do you think Otou-san will be proud? Do you think he'll acknowledge me as his son now?_  
Sasuke, he's never forgotten you. Only his clan pride prevented him from showing it.

_I want you to stop treating me like some backup plan when life gets too hard, only to never confide in me and push me away in the end. I want you to actually appreciate everything I've done for you, Uchiha Itachi, because no matter what you say, I have risked too much of my life not to hear a clear explanation._

Forgive me for it, Miho. Or don't, because you will forever be the one thing I was selfish for.


	15. Submission to Life

**Chapter 15: Submission to Life**

The door creaked slowly open, allowing a yellow stream of artificial light to shine into the room along with a brief breath of fresh air. She squinted and stirred, trying to move away from the uncomfortable brightness. The chains clinked and her body felt like it was burning from the minimal energy it expended to merely twist away. She stopped, breathing shallowly, unable to move any further, so painful it was to try.

"How are we feeling?" said Orochimaru's voice, his tone unctuous.

Her mouth tasted of rust, salty saliva, and dried blood; she tried to speak but found that her throat was too dry, and she was reduced to a hacking cough, with each cough sending an entire vibration of pain down to her abdomen. She heard Orochimaru chuckle faintly.

"Dear, dear," he said, "you're quite a sight. I suppose leaving a beautiful woman like yourself in a room of ravenous men for a week is a bad idea…or, perhaps not. Kabuto says you've been quite obedient lately."

The light darkened and she could see a pair of feet in front of her. She'd been flitting in a state of semi-consciousness for the last God-knew-how-many-hours she'd been left alone; she wanted nothing more than to black out there and then. She had been violated in every way possible; the memories of the rapes were fresh and all-consuming, and she could not fully pass out for fear of reliving it again in her sleep, of feeling too many hands on her and what it meant to be victimized by a pack of rabid dogs. She had been penetrated so many times that every orifice in her body ached and bled; she could still hear their leering voices, taking dibs on the next round, could still feel them inside of her—sick bastards, every single one of them—

"Did you perhaps enjoy it?" continued Orochimaru. "Did you find your place as a whore…pleasant?"

She managed to force her vocal chords to work.

"…Fuck you…"

He chuckled again, but this time it wasn't without vehemence, and the next thing she knew was an excruciating pain in her stomach as she was sent flying against the prison wall, the contact sending a fresh wave of pain down her spine. She hit the floor but was hardly given a second's worth of respite before the next kick; she felt like a soccer ball behind pelted around the dungeon, each kick growing more vicious as Orochimaru's frustration began to surface.

"Ungrateful bitch," he snarled. "I saved you from death, you whore—I've pardoned you multiple times in light of your talent and your bloodline, and this is what I get! Betrayal and nonsense—if it weren't for your blood, I would tear you apart, limb from limb—"

"Orochimaru-sama," came Kabuto's voice, "you're going to kill her at this rate."

Her vision was blackening. There had to be a limit to the amount of pain she could feel…she couldn't stand it…her body hurt so badly…

"I have half-mind to do so," Orochimaru snapped. "Utterly worthless—your blood won't heal my arms—"

She wouldn't have laughed if she could've helped it, but she couldn't. A raking laughter seized her, causing her stomach to hurt all the more—after that last week, she had been vaguely frightened of getting pregnant, but with the amount of physical abuse she'd been subjected to, she could barely support her own life, much less someone else's. The more pain she felt, the harder she laughed, and she couldn't stop herself from spitting out.

"What did I tell you? My blood won't work! Did you drink it? Inject it? Did your organs rupture? Are you in even more pain now—" She broke off, laughing, her body twitching on the ground like a fish out of water as Orochimaru continued to kick her as if whipping a dog into place—what the fuck had she been thinking—was Itachi really worth this—

Kabuto yanked her upright by her hair, exposing her neck to a steel kunai. She could glimpse their expressions—Orochimaru's exhausted and sick, Kabuto's aggravated—and knew that the two of them had gotten nowhere with Orochimaru's arms, and were therefore turning to her.

She could not keep laughing. As funny as it was that Orochimaru had reached a dead-end, so had she.

Because no matter how much they wouldn't believe her, Miho did not know how to cure his arms.

For the second time in her life, she knew death was coming for her, and still, she did not welcome it with open arms.

* * *

"Another dose," said Orochimaru.

Kabuto stared. "Are you certain?"

"Her blood gives her a higher tolerance to drugs than normal," he said, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed the scene. "We could give her another three doses, minimum, and she would still remain alive."

Clearly still dubious, but nevertheless not one to pass up the chance to torture Miho a bit, Kabuto tipped her chin upward to expose the vein there. It was blocked by a thick steel collar that held her, immobile, to the wall. Similar chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles to bind her tightly against the surface. Truth be told, such precautions were unnecessary, as Orochimaru doubted that Miho could move an inch if she were left unbound.

The drugs they'd been administering to her for the last few days were ones that amplified her nerves and made her extremely sensitive to all senses, the most important of which was pain. They had begun with merely injecting the drug and conducting the physical torture manually, but such procedures were rudimentary and if anything, Miho was used to it; the scars mauling her body were testament to such. Now, with her bleeding from every possible part of her body, continuing the brutality of artful cutting seemed pointless—they moved on to electrocution.

With her nerves at their highest sensitivity, the simplest electric shock sent her screaming so loudly that prisoners across the base could hear them. It proved effective: between gasps of blood and tears, Miho named off possible cures, some of which Kabuto had already tried, others of which they'd never heard of. Each new curative sent a thrill through Orochimaru; finally, of course Miho would have the answer—he had not spared her for nothing—she was not just blood to be drawn, but a genius, better than Kabuto—

But nothing helped. One alleviated the pain, another his nausea, but when one actually made his arms burn even vehemently then before, Orochimaru had become so enraged that he had doused her in water and doubled the shock level. Her visible twitching and the inaudible shrieks of unspeakable pain only proved to be trivially satisfactory.

Past a certain point, though, Miho became unresponsive. Her head lolled, her breaths and pulse grew so faint that Kabuto had nearly declared her dead, and it was only then did the possibility that Miho truly did not know how to cure his arms occur to him.

Kabuto injected the needle carefully, and the contact elicited the first reaction from Miho since the beginning of the session. She whimpered quietly as the effects began to take place, and slowly her gray eyes cracked open, the hesitance clear through the blood caked on her skin.

"Awake," Kabuto remarked, causing Miho to wince from the sound. "First time in a while."

Her voice came weakly, and it gave Orochimaru an indescribable thrill to see her so utterly broken.

"I…I don't know anymore," she rasped. "Please…"

"The pain too much?" guessed Orochimaru.

A feeble nod.

"If you know the cure," he said silkily, his breaths coming labored, "I'll free you, Miho. No more pain, no more torture…it's always been this way, hasn't it? You always push me to the last minute, and then you cave…remember the first time I whored you out? You underwent so much pain…and then you were psychologically scarred for weeks…yet, all for what? All I needed was a proof of your loyalty…for you to kill the first person who showed you kindness here…that wasn't too bad, was it?"

He saw her hands clench into fists as she seemed to retreat into the wall as much as she could, but she didn't say a word.

"Well, Miho?" He breathed in slowly. "What else…do you know?"

Miho shook her head slowly from side to side. Orochimaru mustered a sigh and stood up from his seat, his limbs still burning but ready to concede Miho knew nothing.

"Kabuto," he said.

The medic bowed his head. "Yes, Orochimaru-sama?"

"It's time to find Senju Tsunade."

"…Are you certain?" said Kabuto.

"Do not question me in that tone," he snapped. "Go and find her whereabouts, now."

Kabuto retreated from the room, leaving him and Miho alone. He approached her slowly, his eyes flickering as he examined her, a perfect specimen, a woman he had subjected to intensive experimentation for the last five years. She had yielded many results, from her blood but also her abilities as a skilled sensor and medic. Perhaps Karin could come up to par when it came to sensing, but no one could hide her chakra quite like the last member of the Saruji clan, nor was Karin a medic. She was an improvement, a good replacement…and yet, not quite there.

"You made a mistake," he said to Miho's barely moving figure. "You should have run…while you had the chance…and yet you came back…but what for? Itachi? That man is beyond your capabilities, Miho…he is beyond _mine_."

And this, Miho's deadened eyes flickered with a spark of life.

"Surprised?" sneered Orochimaru. "Yes…he joined Akatsuki after I did…and what a beautiful body and talent he had. I tried to possess him…but his genius is beyond that of my own, and he cut off my arm in an attempt to halt my future jutsu use…what makes you think you stand a chance, Miho?" It took considerable effort, but he brought up his rotting hand and touched her face with it. Hypertensive and repulsed, she struggled to escape his touch, but the resistance only made Orochimaru smirk; control over the body meant control over the mind…Miho was close to breaking point.

"I have possessed a woman's body for the last three years," he said. "It's caused my tastes to change a little…or perhaps I have always preferred younger, more sprightly males…so I've always let others make their own experiences with you…it doesn't quite displace the fact, though, that Miho, you are truly quite beautiful…in this state, especially. Perhaps the next time…I change bodies, I will take a few nights to know yours…"

His elongated tongue slid out from his mouth to under her chin, lifting her face so they were face to face. Her skin tasted like blood and sweat, and yet, delicious. She shuddered visibly at the contact, causing his smirk to widen as his tongue wrapped around her throat and began to tighten slowly. Miho must've realized, for her struggling grew more fervent, but as the noose-like tongue continued to constrict, she slackened her body voluntarily as her face grew red from the lack of oxygen.

"Good," he hissed, withdrawing his tongue. "You understand. Struggling against me is fruitless, Miho…that is what I want you to learn…submit to me, and you will be spared…"

She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she tried to inhale, but perhaps her throat was too dry because she began to cough feebly, each drawn in breath shaky and ending in mere sobs.

"I may need to change a body soon," he said, his tongue slithering out once again, this time from her neck down, under her robes. The blood had a much more vibrant taste now, still leaking slowly from the lacerations that adorned her body. He explored as he liked over her jagged and marred skin, lingering at the grooves of old scars and then the crevices of fresh ones. He pressed his tongue against a particularly deep cut right over her breasts, evoking another pained cry from her as she tried to slide away from him. Her thrashing against her chains renewed; he only pressed tighter, feeling again an ecstasy to see tears bead from her eyes.

"Please," she whispered.

He relented and retracted his tongue, licking his lips before he spoke.

"Quite lovely," he said. "And yet…your blood does seem to alleviate my pain considerably…I must be in worse shape than I thought…" His finger brushed her cheek as his eyes lingered over her loosened robes that exposed more blood than skin. "Such a waste…I'll have Kabuto collect the blood. Now…Miho, do we understand each other now? Running away…is useless. I will be healed soon by Tsunade…and even if not, a mere body replacement will suffice…and I will be back, strengthened…what can you do, Miho? Better not to fight me, and be rewarded…forget about finding Itachi. You are dead to him, you are _weak_ to him. But I respect your power…do not fight me, and I'll make you strong…it's so simple…but you realize, I hope, that your choice is limited. Obey me, and you'll be rewarded. Fight…" He leaned close to her face, "and I will make sure you never see daylight again."

* * *

_Is he worth it? _

_The pain, the rape, the broken bones and never-ending torture…it hurts, it hurts so badly…I want to die, I want to die, I want to die._

_I can't get out. I want someone to save me. Anybody. Otou-san. Kakashi._

_Itachi._

* * *

"It seems deserted…hm."

"…Doesn't help that you made our entrance so noticeable."

"What's wrong with blowing a few things up along the way? Art is a bang, hm. I bet Orochimaru saw my art and had to scramble to make it out."

"But he's gone. And that's your fault."

"Mm, don't be such a downer, Sasori-danna…I'm sure he's left some clues…but it sucks, I wanted to kill him too…"

"Be grateful you're his replacement, or Leader would've never let you try to find him…"

"He's just a senile old man, hm. But fine, I'm grateful—I get to kill one of the Sannin. Glad I'm partnered with you, Sasori-danna."

They entered the partially destroyed base, stepping over the rubble scattered across the dusty hallways. The corridors were dimly lit, and they passed by a string of jail cells, each of which were inhabited by over a dozen prisoners each, who clamored to see the source of the commotion.

"Hey! What are you doing here? You're not with Orochimaru!"

"You can let us out!"

"Did you set off the bomb? You killed everyone on the other side!"

"So noisy…" sighed Deidara. "Can I blow them all up?"

"They've seen us…might as well," replied Sasori as he trudged along slowly.

Deidara reached down into his pouch of clay and withdrew a handful of clay spiders. They skittered around momentarily on his palm before he threw them nonchalantly in the depths of the cell; they enlarged, and after a brief _Katsu!_ from Deidara, exploded, accompanied by the shrieks and the sound of bodies falling to the floor.

"Not bad, not bad, hm," said Deidara. "Let's see…oh, here comes another one."

A guard hurried and approached them, clearly frightened but still taking his stance firmly in their path.

"State your purpose, intruders!"

"Where's Orochimaru?" droned Sasori.

"Orochimaru-sama is not here! He left days ago—if you need him, then—"

His sentence was cut off by a scream as Sasori's mechanical tail stabbed into his neck; the guard fell to the ground, motionless, as the two Akatsuki members continued their way down the path.

"Why'd you kill him, eh?" chuckled Deidara. "He could've told us where Orochimaru is."

"Someone loyal to Orochimaru is useless," his partner replied. "We need someone who would have no qualms giving him up…"

"So a prisoner, hm," said Deidara, his attention turning to the surviving captives of the next cell. They were startlingly quiet after the example that had been made of the previous inmates, and looked onto the two Akatsuki members with expressions of pure terror.

"So," said Deidara, "any idea where that snake man went?"

"W-We don't know," stammered one of them.

"Oh. Guess we'll just have to blow you up then, hm."

"W-wait!" he said, waving his hands as Deidara reached down for his stash of clay again. "T-there's a prisoner that Orochimaru came to see specifically—he left this base long ago, but returned frequently to see this one—"

"Hm. How long has he been imprisoned?" said Deidara.

"Not a he—the prisoner is a woman."

"…Really," said Sasori. "I thought Orochimaru preferred males…"

"Apparently, she's special," said the prisoner, speaking with renewed eagerness after realizing that he had gauged their interest. "She's been a prisoner for half a year here now—he would always come out saying that she was more trouble than she was worth, but I've heard him tell the guards explicitly not to kill her."

"Sounds interesting, hm," said Deidara. "And where is she held?"

"In the room all the way down this hall," he answered. "But since I gave you this information, will you let us go? Please?"

Sasori said nothing and continued his trek down the corridor. Deidara turned to their informant and grinned.

"Thanks for the info, hm."

He tossed another set of spiders into the cell and followed his partner as the explosions raged behind him and the prisoners screamed in agony. Nearly whistling, Deidara paused in front of the set of heavy steel doors that Sasori was already examining.

"He really wanted to keep this one, clearly," he remarked, eying the traps with apprehension. "You got it, Sasori-danna?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

It only took two quick slashes with the puppet tail and the door fell at their feet, leading them to a dark room that reeked of blood. Deidara wrinkled his nose.

"That is a stench, hm," he said, stepping into the room first and looking around. "Pretty empty…was the guy lying?"

"No…" said Sasori, joining him. "In the corner…"

It was no wonder that Deidara had assumed the room to be empty. Even as he stared in the corner, it was hard to make out the crumpled figure that seemed to be held up loosely only by the chains that kept her arms over her head. She was as dark as the walls, and it took a few seconds for it to register that it wasn't her skin that was dark, but that she was so soiled by blood, dirt, and her own filth that she blended in with her surroundings unintentionally.

"Is she dead?" said Deidara, doubtful that anyone in that condition could possibly be alive.

As if right on cue, the figure stirred, the sound of clinking chains reverberating in the otherwise empty cell. Her eyes cracked open.

"Clearly not," said Sasori. "Whether or not she will stay alive…is up for debate."

"…You're," said the woman in such a quiet voice that Deidara had to strain to hear, "…too late."

"So you know where Orochimaru is, hm? " he said.

Her eyes flickered back and forth between them, the only sign of life in an emaciated body that looked two inches from the grave. Silence filled the room, broken only by one more whisper.

"Akatsuki…"

Deidara and Sasori exchanged glances.

"She's not one of your spies, is she?" asked Deidara.

"Clearly not…I would know," said the puppet master, looking at the woman intently. Her eyes had closed again and her breathing had grown visibly shallower.

"Should we kill her?" suggested Deidara.

"…No…no one in Orochimaru's ranks would know of Akatsuki unless he trusted them…she must have betrayed him, but wasn't killed because of some…property as a specimen." Sasori slashed at the chains binding her arms, and as Deidara thought, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

"So what are you going to do with her?"

"…We take her for now," said Sasori. "We'll let Leader know what we've found…in the meantime, should she resist captivity…"

Deidara grinned. "I'll take care of it, hm."

* * *

"Orochimaru wasn't there?" said the Leader, his projection flickering ominously.

"Nope," said Deidara cheekily. "Apparently he'd left that base a while ago."

"Then why did his movements constantly track back to it?"

"One of the captives said it was for a special prisoner, hm," answered Deidara. "We found her in an inner chamber."

"What did she say?"

"Uh…not much," he admitted. "When we found her, she said that we were too late, and then she said 'Akatsuki,' and then she blacked out and hasn't woken up since. I think she's dead, hm."

"She's not," said Sasori. "She's merely unresponsive."

"Which is pretty much dead," said Deidara.

"Fool. She's breathing. I've healed some crucial injuries, but it may take her a while to recover."

"There's something weird though," said Deidara. "She was wearing chakra-suppressing handcuffs, but when we took them off, we couldn't sense any chakra anyway, hm."

"It might've merely been a precaution," said Sasori. "At this point, it is difficult to tell given her physical condition, but she does not look like a shinobi."

"I don't think so…" said Deidara. "She has Summoning tattoos on her arms—why have them when you can't use them?"

The Leader did not answer immediately.

"Uh…Leader?" said Deidara.

"…What does she look like?" asked the Leader.

"Uh…black hair, skin and bones…hm."

"…Descriptive, Deidara," deadpanned the Leader.

"Hey, there's not much to say!" said Deidara indignantly. "She's covered in blood!"

"Very well," said the Leader. "Keep her alive and when she wakes, interrogate her of Orochimaru's whereabouts. In the meantime, I will send Kisame and Itachi in your direction—lay low in Kusagakure and wait for them."

"What? Why send them?" said Deidara, bristling. "We have it under control, hm—"

"I have a suspicion of who the girl is," he interrupted. "I need Kisame and Itachi there to see if I am correct. While you wait for them, do not be hasty. Do not kill her."

* * *

The rain poured outside, overwhelmed by the flashing lightning and thunder that reigned in chaos. Safely inside a hotel room, Itachi was meditating, his hands folded in a seal on his lap as he thought of nothing except for the sound of the rain. In moments like these, his arrhythmia was almost negligible; he felt healthy, serene for the first time since he'd seen Chiaki Miho come back from the dead. That week had been exceedingly taxing on his body: he'd been forced to use Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu within a matter of days, causing Kisame to be overtly conscious of Itachi's weariness.

He was glad, though, that he had not run into Miho again and hoped that she had settled down in Konoha—perhaps Kakashi would take care of her, and she would not be stupid enough to seek him out…but Kakashi had acted peculiarly that last time, almost antagonistic towards Miho…Itachi dearly hoped that she had not ruptured that relationship as well. Kakashi was one of the few decent people left who could understand how to deal with Miho's difficult nature.

Kisame had reported the skirmish with Miho to the Leader, but as long as Itachi stayed out of her way, there would be no reason for Akatsuki to see Miho as a threat and therefore eliminate her. This was the most he could do…he could only rely on Miho's common sense to do the rest in guaranteeing her own safety.

Though honestly…something told him that Miho was severely lacking common sense.

But the more pressing issue was Sasuke. Though Itachi hadn't exactly foreseen Sasuke going to Orochimaru, he assumed that it would all work out in the end. Sasuke would grow stronger, just as Itachi had planned, though he would've preferred if his little brother hadn't defected from the village and joined the ranks of the world's greatest pedophile. Regardless, Sasuke was safe—Orochimaru would not lay a hand on his prospective vessel, and Itachi could only hope that in the next three years, Sasuke would overtake Orochimaru's capabilities and escape from the vessel exchange, just as Itachi had done four years ago. Though honestly…Orochimaru was not that difficult to defeat, especially with the Sharingan.

There was a knock on the door. Itachi opened his eyes just as Kisame entered the room, soaked to the skin.

"Where did you go?" said Itachi.

"Leader wanted to talk," said Kisame, oblivious to the puddles he was making on the carpet. "We've got orders."

"What is it?"

"We're going to join Deidara and Sasori."

Itachi groaned inwardly. Deidara was a hyperactive, sadistic, and vengeful teenager with too many bombs at his disposal for Itachi's liking. Sixteen years old and a terrorist bomber…a role model in the making…though Itachi could not say much—he'd killed his entire family at fifteen…

At least Sasori was tolerable, though the evident antagonism Deidara held for Itachi was enough to make him dread ever meeting the bomber and puppet master pair face to face. Had Itachi known how much of an annoyance Deidara was, he wouldn't have been the one to force him into Akatsuki…

"Why?" said Itachi, keeping the reluctance to a verbal minimum.

Kisame chuckled, conscious of Deidara and Itachi's relationship. "You're going to get a headache."

"Deidara-san alone is a migraine."

"No, there's more. See, they found something interesting in one of Orochimaru's bases. _Someone_ interesting, rather."

"Get to the point, Kisame-san," said Itachi monotonously.

"There was a prisoner there that Orochimaru visited often for experimentation. She's close to dead and may even die as we travel, but Leader thinks he knows who it is and reckons it's worth checking out."

"…Who does he think it is?" said Itachi, dread unconsciously filling him.

Kisame grinned, showing rows and rows of teeth. "Your crazy little friend. Chiaki Miho."

* * *

It had been a week since Deidara and Sasori had infiltrated Orochimaru's base, and Deidara was getting bored. They were on standby in Kusagakure with nearly nothing to do other than watch the comatose body that refused to come back to life. Deidara was getting so annoyed that he nearly wanted to kill the girl himself and then get a move on—he wasn't a babysitter, he was an artist, and art meant explosions, except there was no one to explode because Leader had stated explicitly that they were to keep a low profile.

So Deidara was reduced to merely idling away his time on the deck of the hotel, ignoring the glorious sunshine that had graced them after days of torrential rain as he fiddled with the clay in his hands.

"Deidara," said Sasori's voice behind him.

Deidara looked up from the clay birds that he was making.

"What?" he scowled.

"…The girl," he said.

Deidara's eyes lit up. "She's awake?"

"No."

"Damn it, Sasori-danna," said Deidara, turning back to his art. "Getting me excited for no reason…I'm bored as hell…hm."

"…Her blood is special."

"Cool," said Deidara, visibly uninterested.

"Listen, you fool," said Sasori, annoyed. "I've been trying to make a poison that works specifically against her, in case she wakes up and tries to run. Her blood cannot be poisoned. She can be drugged—I've tried with the samples I've drawn—but she can't be poisoned."

"Cool," said Deidara again. "Truthfully, Sasori-danna, I don't really care. If she wants to run, I'll just blow off her legs—can't run then, can she? Hm…"

Sasori just sighed and returned to the room, where he clearly found the unconscious woman more interesting than Deidara did. Deidara had only resumed shaping his clay birds when Sasori emerged from the room again, as unreadable as ever.

"What?" said Deidara sarcastically. "Did you figure out her blood is magical, hm?"

"Tone, you idiot," said Sasori. "…She's awake."

Deidara sprang up. "Are you serious?"

He didn't wait for Sasori's answer; he slid open the door and his vision landed on the woman who was now sitting up in the bed and looking around the room. She seemed to not have noticed him as she was examining her body. Her fingers touched her face gingerly, trying under to feel the scabs of hardened blood for her skin, which must've been difficult as her face consisted of hues of red more than anything else. Her slate gray eyes were like two eggs against a mask of blood and bruises; he nearly cringed at the sight.

Deidara cleared his throat, causing her attention to turn to him. Her arms dropped to her lap.

"You're awake, hm," said Deidara, delighted to see the end of his boredom.

"…I'm alive," she said. Her voice was incredibly soft, as if the attempt to make it louder would be too much for her body to take. "That's…surprising."

"Yeah, well you can bow down and worship me later, hm," said Deidara. "First things first: where's Orochimaru? I need someone to blow up, hm. If you refuse to talk, I can blow you up—"

"He has many bases," she said, her eyes closing as she resumed feeling her face. "I think the one I was at was the southeast one…rather abandoned without much activity. The main ones are the southern and northern ones…if you have a map of Otogakure, I can show you where they are. I want to say there's another in the heart of the country…but I can't say for certain. Other smaller ones are scattered across the country, but he doesn't frequent those often."

Deidara stared at her. "…That was easy."

"Now that you have your information," she said, her eyes flickering open, "are you going to kill me?"

Deidara didn't know the answer. He had expected more of a fight, had even been anticipating one, and was currently feeling a bit let down now that the prospect of a challenge had disappeared.

"You don't know?" she guessed as a green color surrounded her palm.

A marionette string caught her arm just as she was about to put it to her face; Deidara turned to find Sasori sidling into the room, his eyes narrowed.

"It seems I was mistaken," he said. "You're a kunoichi…"

"Orochimaru doesn't keep useless people," she said coolly.

Sasori manipulated the string and dangled a kunai close to her throat.

"Name," said Sasori.

She didn't respond. The kunai leaned closer.

"There's no need to be threatened…I'm only healing myself," she said.

"I've attended to your wounds already," said Sasori.

"You didn't even bathe me. How would you know where my wounds are?"

Deidara could tell that Sasori was debating on letting her go, but then the door behind them slid open one more time.

"About time," said Sasori, not even looking behind him.

"Our apologies," said Kisame lazily as he entered. "The thunderstorms held us up…though it appears we arrived just in time for her to wake up."

His eyes lingered on the figure in the bed, whose eyes—or what Deidara thought were her eyes—narrowed as she studied the newcomers.

"Well?" said Sasori. "Is it…whoever Leader thinks it is?"

"Eh…" Kisame cocked his head to one side. "I can't really tell…didn't you guys think about cleaning her up a bit?"

"It's fine," said Itachi. "It's her."

Deidara frowned at the sight of the Uchiha who, completely ignoring him, stepped into the room. He could see Itachi and the prisoner exchange looks of mutual understanding.

"Wise, as always, Sasori-san," said Itachi, "to be on guard. No doubt Deidara-san merely charged forward. Unbeknownst to him, Chiaki Miho has the interesting ability of appearing vulnerable when she isn't—your chakra concealment has reached new heights, Miho."

She remained completely silent.

"I've done what I needed to do," said Itachi, making a movement to leave.

"Eh?" said Kisame, clearly surprised with his ultimate lack of reaction. "That's it? Aren't you in the slightest worried that she'll go on a rampage—"

"Chiaki Miho is not an idiot," said Itachi, his tone containing warning. "One S-Class criminal is enough to overpower her—she does not have the capability to fight us."

"You guys have fought before, hm?" said Deidara. "Then how did she end up with Orochimaru?"

Itachi looked at her levelly.

"…That's something I would like to know as well," he said quietly.

The four of them gazed at her expectantly, but after a few minutes of stony silence, it became clear that she was not going to tell them anything. Deidara decided to pipe up.

"You know we could torture you into telling, right?"

Her face twisted and it looked so strange and oddly terrifying that it took him a minute to realize that she was actually smiling. The edges of insanity were easily detectable in her eyes, and for some reason, Deidara had to repress a shudder.

She then spoke, and her voice was still quiet, still strained, but the meaning was there.

"I'd like to see you try."

* * *

"So…" said Deidara as they waited for Miho to finish showering, "what do we do with her, hm?"

"Leader's already told me to leave her alive but to keep her under our control," answered Kisame.

"So basically, a prisoner," groaned Deidara. "Can't I go blow up Orochimaru while you guys act as wardens, hm?"

"He says to put Orochimaru on standby," said Kisame. "We have about two and a half years before there's trouble with him and Itachi-san's brother. Currently, Leader is more interested in this girl."

"Why?" said Deidara.

"She's a medic and sensor—apparently one of the best in the land. Since Sasori-san specializes more in poisons, Akatsuki lacks a medic; Leader wants her to be it. He also thinks her chakra suppression can come in handy during infiltration missions."

"…That requires her cooperation," said Sasori.

"Or coercion," corrected Kisame. "And no one is more fit for that role than Itachi-san—uh…Itachi-san?"

The Uchiha had retreated to the entrance of the room and was nearly out the door when Kisame caught him.

"What are you doing?" asked Kisame.

"Leaving," deadpanned Itachi. "I have no interest in playing the role of a madwoman's keeper."

"But wouldn't it be easiest for you to control her, hm?" said Deidara. "I mean…I could blow her legs off, if that's what you prefer, but that might handicap her for infiltration missions, hm."

"She will not try to escape," he answered.

"How do you know?" said Deidara, obviously finding delight in challenging Itachi. "Of course she'll try to escape—we're completely capable of tearing her apart—"

"Tearing her apart goes against our orders," sighed Kisame. "Itachi-san, you're best fit for the role because you'll keep her intact while still restraining her."

"You do it," intoned Itachi.

"Fine, I'll saw her legs off."

"Sasori-san can do it."

"I'll have to drug her, since she won't respond to poisons," said Sasori in the same tone.

"And then she'll just be comatose again," said Kisame, clearly exasperated. "Look, we're not leaving you alone with her—we are merely asking you to take care of things if she gets out of control."

"Stop talking," said Itachi. "The water's gone off."

The four of them stood awkwardly in silence as they stared at the bathroom door, waiting for it to open, and for some reason, there was a strange anticipation amongst them. The door slid open, and out stepped Miho along with billows of steam and the faint scent of soaps. There was a collective wince on their part as they saw her in the bathrobe that could have clearly fit three of her in it, and the way her hair hung loosely and unhealthily in wispy strands from her head, and the anomalies that were her eyes as they stared like huge gray boulders against a background of unbelievably pale skin checkered with bruises of all sizes and colors. Had it not been for the bruises and remnant cuts, she would have looked like a walking skeleton.

She waved at them with a large handheld mirror.

"I was going to heal myself in there, but then I thought you all might think I was trying to run or something," she said with a wry smile that made them cringe inwardly at the way her skin twisted. It was rather pathetic, actually, to see two S-Class criminals (because nothing could ever faze Itachi or Sasori) flinch at the sight of a girl who was clearly a ghost that had somehow become solid. "May I?"

She made her way to the bed, her walk clearly arduous and halted, for she seemed to pause many times and by the time she arrived at the mattress, she nearly collapsed onto it.

"Your wounds are extensive and many," said Sasori. "Your tiny vestiges of chakra cannot—"

"You're mistaken," said Itachi. "She has plenty of chakra."

Sasori did not challenge him for no chakra, undetectable or not, could not escape the gaze of the Sharingan. However, Itachi paused as he continued to subject her to his gaze.

"Did you drug her, Sasori-san?" said Itachi nonchalantly.

"No…if her chakra flow is stilted…that is a remnant of her own experiences in Orochimaru's hands."

Itachi did not reply and only watched as Miho ignored the rest of them and began to heal her face using her reflection as a map, one bruise at a time. Slowly but surely, the purple and green faded into a smooth sheer of white skin, but she had not gotten halfway done when the mirror dropped to her lap and a visible pain overtook her. The chakra disappeared from her hand and Miho fell against the pillows, her breath coming short and her body folding into a fetal position under the covers.

"…Gonna do anything, Sasori-danna?" suggested Deidara.

"…No," said Sasori, heading for the door. "She will live."

Deidara shrugged and followed his partner out of the room, their disinterest for the prisoner's pain clear. Kisame turned to Itachi.

"Are you going to stay with her?" he said, his tone hinting at something.

"No," said Itachi, following his fellow criminals out the door. "She'll survive."

* * *

_She'll survive._

She didn't know how many times she'd thought that she wouldn't make it in that hellhole. How many times she'd contemplated killing herself. But even if she had a manner to do so—Orochimaru had ensured that no matter how much he could hurt her, she would never be able to damage herself—she didn't know if she had the nerve to do it. To die. She'd wanted to die—so badly.

But not badly enough.

For the first time in what seemed like a century, she was lying on a bed, she wasn't rotting in that corner of her cell—sunlight shone brightly outside, not the pathetic flickering of a candle—she could feel her skin, could feel her body, could feel pain again but at least it was _something,_ at least she felt it, and though she was still impossibly weak, she was _alive,_ she was going to survive, and suddenly, everything around her sharpened so immensely, colors, lights, aromas, it all seemed so incredibly beautiful that she was reduced to tears, sobs that wrenched her heart in a way that she only could let out silently because she knew that the Akatsuki members were still outside—but she could at least let down the façade of strength now, let the utter relief to be away from Orochimaru show—

She was breathing, she was conscious—Miho stared at her hands through her tears, so thin that the skin was drawn out over her bones and sunken in between the knuckles, but they seemed so beautiful that she held them tightly to her—there was pain but she could overcome this, she could heal, she could do anything again—

She was alive.

* * *

In his memories, Itachi could not find a time where he had seen Miho cry. He thought back, again and again, farther and farther, but no. Nothing. Miho was not one to cry, at least not in front of people. A tear here and there, perhaps occasional displays of sentiment when she'd been neglected by Hiroki…but something stirred in him that day as he subtly watched her shoulders shaking with every obvious sob. He pretended not to notice, especially with Kisame watching his every movement, but it was in that instant that Itachi felt such tenderness towards her that he very nearly forgot everything around him.

But he didn't make a move towards her. His face spoke of nothing but an indifference compatible with Sasori's. He refused to remain in the same room with her alone, argued point-blank that there was nothing he could do that the rest of them couldn't when it came to controlling Miho and emphasized over and over again that she clearly was not going to try to escape, and therefore his presence was unneeded.

But by some absurdity, Kisame refused to let him leave. It was as if he were purposely goading Itachi, trying to see if there was anything deeper behind the masked shell of a traitor, for as stupid as he wanted to make Kisame out to be, Itachi knew Kisame was more perceptive than he seemed to be…and it unnerved him. What did he want to see? What did he have to gain?

It did not help that whenever he saw her and her wasted figure, his guilt frothed with renewed vigor—he tried not to imagine what Miho had undergone while in Orochimaru's capture, but he had a good idea; her face was still monstrously bruised and the healing process was slow. She could only heal herself in small intervals, and though her reserves of chakra were full, utilizing them exhausted her. She did not complain, but it was clear on her expressions that her pain was considerable, which only made Itachi feel worse.

So Itachi obstinately avoided Miho when he could, still impossibly disturbed by the cruel twist that fate had thrown at him—first for Miho to come back alive, and then for her to end up in the hands of Akatsuki. He was only grateful that the Leader found her to be potentially useful—being forced to work for Akatsuki was much better than being dead.

Miho took her captivity well; it seemed that being Akatsuki's prisoner was infinitely better than being Orochimaru's guinea pig, for she caused hardly any trouble. Her quiet submission was such a stark contrast from the Miho Itachi knew that he half-suspected that it wasn't really her—which, of course, meant that he was simply deluding himself. No, it seemed that Orochimaru had done the impossible to Miho—he had broken her headstrong disposition, for it was clear that despite her pretense of strength, Miho's actions screamed of her anxiety to not be subjected to any sort of torture.

The repercussions of her experiences were still visible; the day after she woke up, she began to show signs of withdrawal from the drugs that Orochimaru had administered to her. It seemed that she attempted to suffer quietly and without causing any further attention to be paid to her, but by the second night, the seizures became so violent that they'd had to intervene.

Deidara had been all for blowing her and therefore his boredom up; Kisame suggested sawing off her face, to which Itachi kindly pointed out served no real purpose other than for fun; Sasori merely used his puppet strings to immobilize her limbs and then administered the drug he thought she was withdrawing from.

"She can't overcome the addiction like that," said Itachi warningly as Miho's thrashing grew still.

Sasori shrugged and left, evidently glad that she was no longer making so much noise.

"You figure it out," yawned Deidara, going back to his room.

"She's fine now," said Kisame with a shrug as he left. "We can deal with it when she starts acting all weird again."

"She's withdrawing from a drug, Kisame."

"Acting weird," repeated Kisame. "Let's get some sleep."

* * *

_There must be a limit, Miho, to what I am worth. Your relationship with your parent was one thing. Already I know it is consuming you in guilt, your disbelief that you threw away your father for a man who ended up being nothing you expected him to be. _

_But this is worse, Miho. How long have you been Orochimaru's captive? Guinea pig? I can't be worth your debilitating health, the visible scars and contusions that align your body—when will you stop? Is your hatred for me so great that you threw away any chance you had at life? You've escaped the fangs of a snake only to land in the jaws of a lion. You've become so destitute that you rejoice in this finding, that as long as you aren't subject to physical pain, you will gladly take whatever Akatsuki has to offer you—but we are not kind, Miho, they are not afraid of killing you because you are not terribly necessary. _

_But I realize the role I've played, I can see the irrationality you hold whenever your eyes land on me, and between us is exchanged a mutual understanding, a fear on my part that one day you will meet your maker as you futilely try to kill me—_

_I killed you once, Miho. If it is for Konoha, for Sasuke, Miho, if you overstep your boundaries and come too close, I can kill you again._

_I only beg you not to make me do it._

* * *

It was obvious that Sasori, Deidara, and Kisame had no intention of truly taking care of Miho, or perhaps Kisame had convinced the others that Itachi was to be her primary caretaker and they were free to do whatever they wanted. Sasori remained in his room most of the time, tinkering with poisons, while Kisame and Deidara played shougi or explored the city as they saw fit. They refused to let Itachi join them—to stop him from escaping, Deidara threatened to place bombs all around the hotel, and though Itachi reminded him monotonously that he could see wherever the bombs were and hence avoid them, Deidara countered with the scenario of the hotelkeeper stepping on one and being blown to smithereens. Kisame just said that he didn't enjoy being beaten in shougi all the time and at least he stood a chance against Deidara, unlike Itachi, who had beaten him in five minutes once. They'd never played again.

And so Itachi was the one who was responsible for arranging the room service to bring meals to Miho at the proper times, and though he never appeared in front of her willingly, he did watch silently to ensure that she ate what she could. The amount was unbearably small, though, for her stomach did not seem to take the sudden consumption of food well and she had regurgitated most of what she'd eaten for the first few meals. Slowly though, she kept it down, which relieved Itachi as she showed signs of returning to normalcy. However, the seizures at night—a combination of the withdrawal symptoms and other things, perhaps—did not stop, and they worried him. He could not do anything about it though—he only knew intermediate healing jutsu, which he knew without asking would do nothing for her. He was reduced to only watching her as she twitched in her sleep, clearly in pain and suffering, but no one else noticed because she was quiet, and Itachi was the only one stupid enough to care.

One night, Kisame announced that he and Deidara would be spending their time in the city—probably in the brothels—leaving Itachi practically alone with Miho, as Sasori constantly ignored them. Itachi could only hope that Miho's body would grant her a peaceful night of sleep, but early in the evening, it was clear that this night would be much worse than normal. She threw up her food for the first time that week, and by ten in the evening, Itachi could hear her struggling to rein in her audible discomfort. He watched her through the crack of her door, debating—Kisame and Deidara weren't around, Sasori didn't care what he did…and it was growing difficult for him to just watch and not act…

Itachi slid open the door quietly and entered the room. Miho was fitfully sleeping, her breath coming short and laboriously. Incoherent murmurs flowed in the air. She was shivering visibly, feverishly as perspiration beaded on her face. Itachi moved like a ghost in the room, back and forth from the bathroom to the bed. He placed a cold towel on her forehead and, after checking to make sure that Sasori was in his room, brought a chakra-surrounded hand onto Miho's head and let it flow through her. It was a rudimentary process, one that he wasn't sure would work, but Miho's shivering gradually subsided as he continued the treatment. Her breathing, however, did not quite stabilize. Itachi dragged up a chair and sat down beside her, now bringing both hands up to treat her. Retaining his right hand at her forehead, he paused before letting his left hand trail down her throat and slightly part her bathrobe that was drenched in sweat.

He was paying more attention to her breathing than to her torso, but as his hand hovered over her skin, he thought he felt a roughness underneath her fingers and glanced down. At first sight, Itachi wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing, but then it occurred to him that it was actually a body he was seeing, not a raised relief map. Wounds had altered her body so grotesquely that scars penetrated deeply like valleys, pushing the surrounding skin into ridges that resembled mountains. Her ribs only added to the topography, jagged ranges of hills that skin clung to desperately. Unconsciously, he parted her clothes further, saw that the map continued down past her waist. It was only then that Itachi realized he was seeing a woman's half-naked body for the first time, and without her own assent—this was unacceptable, but…this could hardly count for a body. This was a mistake, this was a…an abomination, a deformation…and yet Itachi was entranced. His fingers brushed the protruding scars, lingered hesitantly over her bare breasts—they were so…small…but she was probably half his weight at this point, so he shouldn't have expected much else…his fingertips ghosted the clean, white scar that shone in the moonlight maliciously, a visual reminder that was more prominent than all the rest. And he knew—this was the stab wound, the one that had come so close to killing her five years ago…his index finger stroked it, commemorating the feeling to memory, a testament to the past…

Miho stirred, causing Itachi to hastily replace her robes where they were supposed to be. He waited with bated breath, unsure how he was going to explain the situation if Miho had actually been awake.

The still minutes ticked by, and he was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when her eyes snapped open.

"Shit," he muttered, realizing that in his relief, he had let his hand rest on her concave stomach.

"I don't know anything else," she gasped, not even seeing him. "Please—"

And then it seemed to register that she was no longer where she thought it was; an anguished relief flooded her countenance and she exhaled and closed her eyes to recover herself, her skin now covered in fresh tears of sweat, before she turned to face the one who had woken her.

They exchanged no words. Miho monopolized his vision; he could see her eyes trail over his countenance, and his eyes wavered from hers to her lips and then to her neck and the rumpled collar of her robes that hid the taboo he had just seen, and in him rose a physical desire so intense that he struggled to suppress it—mind above body, that was a mantra he repeated often and firmly believed in—

And then he sensed Sasori's chakra moving from his room into the hallway—Sasori was not a good sensor, his puppetry had sealed off that particular ability, but all the same, what if Sasori decided to check inside the room, or what if Miho made a noise to alert Sasori that Itachi was there—

Itachi swiftly brought a finger to his lips as his Sharingan activated, menacing pools of crimson that Miho plainly flinched at the sight of. But he was not trying to hurt her, he was only warning her—he brought a hand up to her face and touched her cheek lightly, comfortingly, letting her know that he meant her no harm, and then waited silently while suppressing his chakra as Sasori exited the hallway into the inner gardens. The danger had passed, but it had served as enough of a distraction for Itachi to retain control over himself.

"Go back to sleep," he said stonily.

"Why are you here?" she said, her voice showing her weakness but containing an edge of defense. Her hand came up to his, though, grazing it lightly before pushing it away.

"…You were struggling," he said indifferently, "in your sleep. I came to check why you were making such a racket."

"Che." She turned her face away, her body shuddering with every intake of oxygen. "I'll sleep…you don't need to guard me here…I won't run."

"…Is it because you think you're safe here?" he said.

She didn't answer.

"You are correct," he continued. "Each one of us here is strong enough to take on Orochimaru."

Her shoulders grew rigid at the sound of his name.

"What did he do to you?" asked Itachi quietly.

"…Why do you care?" was the muffled response.

Because if he could, he would go and tear Orochimaru to pieces for taking his brother and then terrorizing Miho to this degree, but of course, that was something that Itachi couldn't say. He avoided the question.

"…There is nothing for you to worry about," he said. "He will not find you here. It is pointless to let your dreams revolve around a threat that no longer exists. Dream, instead, of your recovery."

Miho let out a laugh that nearly sounded maniacal.

"I'd rather dream of nothing, Uchiha," she said, "than have these nightmares."

Itachi's hand slid to her shoulder unconsciously, and when he thought about it in retrospect, he was surprised with his own audacity—this was not supposed to happen, he was supposed to be utterly emotionless towards her, for she hated him and had every reason to do so—

But Miho did not push him away this time. Her hand crawled up to her shoulder, hesitating as her fingers touched his, then slowly enveloping his entire hand, that thin, spidery, pale hand over his full, tan one, and then the fingers crawled in the gaps between his, a pattern of stripes, interlocking, bringing an influx of memories that ran in front of his eyes—they were outside Konoha, on the hills far away from everyone else, the sun was bright and the wind soft, there was only silence and this hand-holding, elementary and foolish, both of them clinging onto the past that they knew and refusing to acknowledge the curses that awaited them…

And then he was back in that room, it was dark, the moonlight shone down on Miho's tiny profile that barely dented the bed, and he was facing her back, and remembering what he had just seen, the signs of Miho's torture and suffering—what was he doing…Miho needed to forget him, completely, he could not encourage this behavior—

But then a little voice in his head reminded him that Miho _hated_ him, and would forever do so, and that this sentiment was better than her trying to kill him because then he would not have to hurt her in return—

"Miho," he said, his voice as flat and neutral as it always was.

"…What, Uchiha." Her sentence had no inflection—it was not a question. She did not let go of his hand.

"…Turn around," he said. "I can give you dreamless sleep."

"…I don't want it. I hate seeing your eyes."

They lapsed into silence. He wanted it to last forever. The ticking of the clock pounded into his head, a reminder—you're doing this wrong, you can't do this—you're doing it again, it's like that time you needed to tell her that everything was over and then you kissed her instead—it's been five years, Itachi, but you are still that selfish boy of fourteen you were back then—

He broke their hold and stood up. Miho did not stir, but her fingers loosened as they grasped nothing but air.

He caught her off guard, grabbing her shoulder and leaning his face so close to hers that their breaths mingled; his Sharingan swirled, and Miho's eyes widened infinitesimally before sliding closed, her entire body relaxed, and she slumped into the bed, her breathing normal. Dreamless sleep claimed her—just as Itachi had promised.

Without another glance in her direction, he straightened up, placed the chair back where it had been, and exited the room; he had never been there, had not seen anything, and nothing between them had ever happened.

* * *

_"Itachi, I heard something absolutely ridiculous from your brother today."_

_He tears his vision from the sky to look at her, anxious to hear news about the brother he can no longer openly interact with. She is sporting an atypically broad grin, genuinely amused with whatever news of Sasuke she bears._

_ "What was it?"_

_ "You'll never imagine." She laughs. "Sasuke—he's a romantic!"_

_ He is surprised. "Really? How do you know?"_

"_Today, he suddenly pointed out all these couples walking down the street who were holding hands and said—" She is suddenly laughing so hard that he cannot help but smile as well. "—he said that 'the spaces between your fingers were created so another's could fill them,' and that's why they were all holding hands." _

_She is positively dying of laughter now, and though he likes seeing her uncommon laugh, he rises to his brother's defense._

_ "What's so strange about that, mm?"_

_ "Oh, not you too," she says, rolling her eyes. "Such sentimental nonsense—we have spaces between our fingers because we need to hold _stuff,_ not each other—imagine what the world would be like if all we did was hold each other…so utterly useless. The world would never function."_

_ "I don't know," he says slyly, "all we do when we see each other is hold hands—I daresay we function perfectly well."_

_ "You know what I mean, Itachi."_

_ "Well then, why do _we_ hold hands, if it's so utterly useless?"_

_She doesn't reply immediately and is silent for so long that he's somewhat worried that he's angered her with his boldness. He didn't necessarily mean for it to be a serious question, more of a joke, actually, something that she can chastise him for or hit him lightly when she's embarrassed, but she seems to have taken it to heart. He doesn't know if he really wants to know her answer._

_Right when he's about to apologize, though, to silence her and not hear the words he knows will be the hard and cold truth, she speaks, quickly, quietly, one swift push forward as if it is a sentence that she will never speak again._

_ "We hold hands because we can't do anything else, because we can't kiss since we don't know where we are, we can't hug because it's too obvious, but we need to know that we won't let each other go, so we hold hands, because it's the simplest thing, because it's quick to start, and it gives us what we want—a connection…but it's efficient too, because it's easy to break off, and when that happens…there's nothing left to explain after it's been broken."_

_She falls into sullen silence, her laughter gone, replaced by a hard look in her eyes, questions that she wants to answer but he steers adamantly away from._

_All the same, he looks at her and feels some sort of contentment in knowing that she is so practical that she borders pessimistic, and at the same time, a guilt because she knows that a break is always lingering above them. _

_It is harder to break than she makes it out to be, but all the same…she knows what he is capable of._

_Well said, Miho. Well said._

* * *

free talk: (_please note that the rating has gone up to M.)_

_let all angst and darkness begin (not that it hasn't already, honestly.)_

_sadly, here ends my following the plot line to enter grayer territory. i will be taking advantage of the three year gap - hopefully it will turn out well._

_also unfortunately, here ends relatively consistent updates. i'm actually really disappointed i didn't pick this back up earlier this summer especially since i've gotten to a part that i want to write, but school comes first. i will try my best to update when i can though._

_lj later if you're interested! please review~ _

_xoxo,  
m.n _


	16. Sane Alone

**Chapter 16: Sane Alone**

She truthfully didn't know what had gotten into her that night. Retrospect always gave valuable insight, and when Miho had woken up the next morning, she'd very nearly cringed as she'd thought back to her behavior. Truth be told, her reaction had been understandable to some degree—it had been so long since she'd had physical contact with someone that wasn't painful or malicious, so she'd been caught off guard, she'd been vulnerable, she'd been…she'd been longing for the comfort, the kindness, and though she wanted nothing more than to be lightly caressed and consoled, Itachi's neutrality had been enough for her to want to take advantage of.

But it was not acceptable—the fact remained that she had been holding hands with her father's murderer—and Miho could not think of a fully appropriate way to atone for the blasphemy than to swear that it would never happen again.

They both seemed to know that they had crossed some taboo boundaries—Itachi, who had always ignored her and avoided her if he could, now positively disappeared from the confines of her room. The times she did see him, he was hostile and scathing—atypical to the indifference that his partner seemed to be accustomed to, but it was not the first time that Miho had seen Itachi's less-than-ideal side. She bit back responses when others were in the room, simply because intuition told her that other than Kisame, they knew nothing of Itachi and her history…but when it was just her and Itachi, sometimes even with his shark of a partner in the room, sparks flared and the snide comments grew to the point of her virtually lunging for his throat. That, of course, never happened—she was too physically incapacitated to swat at a fly let alone rip apart an S-class criminal with her bare hands—not to mention that Kisame's sword had the uncanny ability to rob her of any chakra she'd managed to build up if she got out of hand.

And so Miho sullenly controlled herself, still frightened innately of anything that Akatsuki was planning for her, but as the days wore on, she forgot that she was in the company of S-Class criminals and instead enjoyed the solidarity that they primarily left her in. Slowly, her face was returning to one consistent hue of sickly white, but at least it was monochromatic—she was not a fan of her purple-green splotchy countenance before. First was the face, then were the wounds she'd accumulated on her chest. She tried to address the ones that were relatively newer and managed to make some of the scars fade, but such a positive result wasn't common; it was with sheer reluctance and near repulsion that Miho looked at her reflection in the mirror for healing.

But as she healed, Miho began to think. Began to re-evaluate what she was going to do with herself now that she was invariably alive—and in the company of the one man who represented her everything. Akatsuki surprisingly was not discreet around her—Miho picked up information about the members surrounding her quickly: there was Itachi, and then Kisame with chakra levels that rivaled a Jinchuuriki's, and then Sasori, whom Miho had derived to be a puppet master and healer to some degree, and then last and youngest, Deidara, explosive terrorist. Charming.

Yet despite the information, Miho was unsure of what to do. There was no possible way that she could kill Itachi in the company of another three S-Class criminals—in fact, she was hardly kidding herself—she couldn't kill Itachi if he were blind, deaf, and dumb. He was on a level entirely different, one that she could not hope to attain—and yet if she knew this, Miho could not even reason with herself—why was she still trying?

The weeks quickly slid by with Miho's deplorable condition. She recovered, her body began to normalize, and she was pleased to see her sunken hollow cheeks fill out, for the barest bit of meat to slowly show up on her wrists…or perhaps she was deluding herself, and no such change was actually apparent, because whenever Deidara walked into the room to check up on her, he always recoiled in that peculiar manner as if he'd seen something particularly disgusting. Miho could not help but frown at such reactions—she was not that abhorrent. It did not help but after getting over this initial revulsion, he would then launch into a huge tirade about his utter boredom and unwillingness to play warden—that if he had a choice, he would blow her up as artistically as he could and then go and blow up Orochimaru too—

Needless to say, Miho did not enjoy his company.

One particular sunny day, the door to her room burst open without preamble. It was an odd time for someone to be visiting her—she had just finished what she could of her lunch and was currently concentrating her chakra to steady her still volatile flow. Miho looked up, distracted, to find a grinning Kisame drag Deidara into the room. Half of the bomber's face was visibly bloody and his robes ripped on the same side—his mouth was running at a mile a minute and Kisame seemed entirely unfazed by it.

"The fuck, you bastard—you wanna fight then you go and get your half-assed red-eyed bimbo to do the job—"

"I merely suggested that Itachi-san help out a little bit—it was just for the amusement of it all—"

"_You said it was going to be a fair fight, you asshole_!"

"It was," said Kisame, tossing Deidara onto the ground in front of Miho. "I said Sasori could participate if he wanted—"

"You know Sasori-danna doesn't give a shit—"

"Truthfully, I thought Itachi-san wouldn't either," said Kisame, cracking the bones in his neck. "It seems like he hates you more than he lets on—but man, the genjutsu was funny as hell—"

"What are you doing here?" deadpanned Miho, unable to hide her irritation at being disturbed.

"Easy—he's injured, you're a doctor—fix him," said Kisame.

"Fuck you," snapped Deidara.

"I would send him to Sasori," said Kisame, ignoring the bloody heap of blond hair on the ground, "but like I said earlier—he doesn't give a shit. So here we are with you, a prisoner with nothing better to do—this should be easy for you, right?"

Miho stared at Deidara, whose glare was directed at Kisame—he looked as if he could burn holes through cement. Her gaze lingered at the deep abrasion that mauled half of his face—chunks of skin clung on desperately through the rivulets of blood that were dripping from his closed left eye to Miho's cleanly polished floor. She felt a wave of indignation—why the hell would she waste chakra on one of her captors rather than herself? But Kisame seemed to guess her thoughts, for he then said,

"Looks like you have plenty of chakra for healing—you might as well use it on someone a little more worthy."

Miho ignored him and addressed Deidara—judging from his wounds, she was not going to have enough chakra to continue her own healing for the day.

"You'd best sit on a chair," she said to Deidara. "You're getting blood all over the floor."

"Fuck the floor, mm," he snarled.

Kisame dragged up a chair and effortlessly lifted Deidara into it.

"There," he said with the self-pronounced air of a man who was immensely proud of his good deeds, "no problem. I'll be waiting on the sidelines just to make sure you don't try to kill him—you know Samehada's temper by now, so I doubt you'll try to do anything funny, but all the same."

"Your sword is disgusting," she muttered, bringing a hand up to Deidara's cheek.

The bomber winced and slapped her hand away.

"Forget it, hm," he said obnoxiously, "I'll just let it heal—"

"You…er…might not want to do that," said Kisame.

"Why the fuck would you care?" said Deidara angrily.

"Half your face is sawed off," said Miho. "Not cut off—_sawed_ off. It's messy and difficult to heal—your body would never be able to recover your face to its normal state by itself."

Deidara turned to Kisame, livid. "_You just permanently mauled my face!_"

Kisame shrugged and looked out the window. "Just let her heal you then."

He turned back to Miho, eyes flashing as his hands reached down into the satchels that he always carried on either side of him. Miho noticed his chakra flow to his arms and then the levels drop infinitesimally as he brought them out, revealing a set of clay spiders. Much to her surprise, they scurried out of his palm and up to her shoulders where they secured their perch by her ears.

"One wrong move," said Deidara threateningly, "and I won't be the only sorry-looking one here, hm."

"Is that really necessary, Deidara?" said Kisame breezily. "You don't trust me to take care of her?"

He only chuckled in response to Deidara's middle finger and resumed his gaze outside the window. Miho looked at the spider on her shoulder curiously.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

"What?" said Deidara irritably.

"The…hm," she said, closing her eyes as she sensed. "There's chakra in the spiders—bombs? So you infuse the clay with chakra—but how? …It's embedded in the clay?"

"Woman, are you going to do your job or not?"

A vein throbbed at Miho's temple—the boy was nearly four years younger than she was and had absolutely no manners—she said nothing, though, and just brought up a hand to his cheek.

"Hold still," she said quietly.

The warm chakra ran down her hand and through Deidara's skin. The process was rudimentary by her standards and the fact that the wound wasn't a clean cut hindered her only slightly. Mere seconds passed by and she withdrew her palm, panting slightly from the effort—how pathetic, she would've been able to heal for hours before Orochimaru had gone ballistic on her—but still, she was pleased with the work. Deidara's skin was smooth and flawless; it was not without envy that she observed his scar-less healing, which she had tried for years to attain but couldn't.

He seemed mildly surprised with the work as he looked into the reflection of her mirror.

"That had to be the fastest healing I've ever seen," said Kisame after a long minute of studying Miho from afar. "Deidara, you got it? I'm going to go talk to Itachi-san for a little bit."

"I'd like nothing more for you to leave, mm," said Deidara snappishly, setting the mirror down on Miho's lap and shrugging off his cloak. "Get the fuck out."

Kisame chuckled and exited, leaving Miho with a now shirtless Deidara.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, "he fucking messed up the stitches…mm…" She glanced at the stitches near his left shoulder that were surrounded by some sort of seal. "Woman—"

"It's Miho," she said.

"I don't give a fuck."

"Then you can kindly heal up your own bloody self."

Deidara's eyes flashed. "Who the hell—"

"I have no intention of healing someone who has such lack of respect," she said coolly.

"Well, if respect is what you're looking for, I'll just go and drop you off at Orochimaru's door step then," snarled Deidara. "How'd you like that?"

Miho didn't answer.

"That's right," he said, reaching over to the already torn stitches and hooking his index finger over them. "People like you should really just…hm," He gritted his teeth, as if preparing himself for something, and then pulled the stitches out in one fluid motion. The result was completely unexpected; a gigantic tongue burst out of the hole that the stitches had sewn together—Miho screamed slightly and jolted backward in the bed, staring in horror and fascination as Deidara, sensing nothing peculiar about this…_tongue_ that was fighting out of his chest, pushed it back in.

"Here, mm," he said, holding down the mouth in his chest and handing her a thin black string with the other, "stitch it back up—"

"What…" Miho struggled to find the words, "is that a mouth?"

"Yeah," said Deidara impatiently. "Hurry up, it's not like I have all day."

Her fascination overwhelmed her annoyance; she hesitantly took the string and needle professed to her and, staring in wonder, inched her way closer.

"You have…two mouths?" she said, poking the needle into his skin indecorously.

"Four, mm, are you blind?" he said, holding up his hands.

She could only stare. "…Four mouths."

"Yep," said Deidara.

"And you…uh…were born…with four mouths."

"Yep."

"Thank God only one talks."

"What was that?"

She focused on the stitching. "Nothing. So…do all your mouths…eat?"

"…Sort of," he said thoughtfully. "Well, three of them eat clay so…but they don't really eat it because they regurgitate it with chakra, hm."

"So you don't have four stomachs?" said Miho, completely serious.

He looked at her with half-appraisal, half-amusement. "What do you think I am, a freak or something?"

Miho decided not to answer truthfully.

"No, of course not. I…wow. I haven't seen that before."

"It's not like there aren't weirder kekkei genkai out there, hm."

"There are…" she said, thinking back to the multiple ones she'd seen in Orochimaru's base. "But I thought I'd seen the lot—you're really interesting though…I wonder if your chakra…I assume your chakra paths are different then." She tried sensing. "A lot of concentration in your arms…less in your legs, I suppose…that's interesting…"

"Now I get why you were with Orochimaru," scoffed Deidara, pulling back as she finished the last stitch. "You're just like him—excited over abilities people are just born with, mm. Is that what you guys did all the time—experimented on people together?"

"You think I was locked up there for fun?" she said coldly, her interest evaporating.

"Tch."

She snapped. "It's not like Akatsuki is much better—you probably have bonding time just recollecting how you ended up killing your own families—"

"Nah, that's just Uchiha," said Deidara, tugging his shirt back over his head. "And Kisame. The rest of us…hm. We just liked…thinking out of the box, and our villages didn't like that, so we killed some people."

"Charming."

"It's nothing different, really, from what you and Orochimaru have been doing."

"Don't put me and him in the same basket," she said frigidly.

"Yeah, yeah," shrugged Deidara. "Well, it's all about _interest,_ hm. Yours is…human anatomy. Or medicine. Whatever. Totally boring. Mine…mine is _dynamic_. Mine is _art_."

He beckoned to the spiders she'd forgotten were sitting on her shoulders, and they scuttled back to him.

"My art is alive," he said, holding them out to her. "I create them, mold them, and then…" He tossed them into the air and put his hands together. "Katsu!"

They exploded midair with minimal sound—there had not been enough chakra in them to kill, only to wound.

"It's a bang, see," he said, clearly excited. "It's alive! And that's what _I'm_ interested in, mm—art that's alive. No one really _gets_ it—well, Sasori-danna is kind of an artist but it's not quite the same kind of art…but see, that's why I'm not gonna make fun of you for being so interested that I have four mouths." He rolled his eyes. "But it's not even that weird…seriously, mm."

The door slid open before Miho replied and Kisame walked in, dragging Itachi behind him.

"I told you before, Kisame-san," said Itachi in his normal monotony, "I dislike nonsense, and yet that is all I seem to be hearing from you—I have no desire to be examined by a madwoman."

"All better, Deidara?" said Kisame, ignoring Itachi but not letting go of the collar of his robes.

"No thanks to you, asshole," said Deidara sourly, tossing his cloak back on.

"What, you're healed just fine."

"Tch." Deidara glanced at Itachi. "What the hell's he here for, mm?"

Itachi's expression did not change in the slightest. "You might want to work more on that counter genjutsu, Deidara-san, or I will begin to think that you are all bark and no bite."

"You—"

Itachi's eyes glowed red, causing Deidara to stop his retort midway.

"Perhaps you're interested in another match, Deidara-san?" said Itachi flatly. "I assure you, nothing would delight me more than to alleviate my boredom."

"That's enough," sighed Kisame.

"What are you here for?" said Miho, leaning back onto her pillows. She was growing tired with the constant activity.

"Another checkup," said Kisame.

"I don't have the energy," she said, eyes narrowed at Itachi, who was looking past her.

"It doesn't require any chakra," said Kisame, pulling Itachi towards her. "Just a simple…" He booted Deidara out of the chair and pushed Itachi into it, "checkup."

"Go to a different doctor," she said, turning away.

She should've known better than to retort, for Samehada was suddenly lingering unbearably close to her ear.

"If you want to conserve chakra," said Kisame silkily, "I suggest you do what I ask, or I'll rob you of any chakra you have for the next week."

"I have no interest in this," said Itachi, making a movement to stand. Kisame pushed him back down.

"Neither do I," snapped Deidara, rubbing the shoulder he'd fallen on as he stood back up. "Forget it, I'm going to go raid the kitchen for _sake_…and then I'm going to sleep, hm."

"Forever alone," chuckled Kisame.

Deidara left with a "Fuck you," one that Miho very much wanted to voice aloud without fear of retribution as well. She settled with a stony stare.

"A checkup is easily attainable elsewhere," she said flatly. "Am I supposed to be looking for anything in particular?"

"Yeah," said Kisame. "Heart problems."

Miho saw Itachi's eyes flicker.

"Surprised, Itachi-san? Yeah, we've known each other long enough for me to notice a few things—I'm interested in what the little missy has to say here."

"…Heart problems?" she said.

"There is nothing wrong," said Itachi with no inflection of his voice. "Kisame is merely hallucinating. Perhaps he should be the one here instead, and I will be meditating in my room—"

Kisame tossed a stethoscope onto Miho's lap.

"One check," he said. "That's all."

Miho fingered the instrument, thinking.

"And…" she said slowly, "what symptoms have you been having?"

"Nothing," said Itachi.

"Shortness of breath," said Kisame.

"I am easily exhausted," said Itachi shortly.

"Cough."

"It may be attributed to the rainy weather."

"Just check," said Kisame.

Itachi sighed, but not without giving Miho a warning glare, before proceeding to remove his cloak and his shirt. There was an abrupt crashing sound from outside, followed by a loud, "WHAT THE FUCK, KISAME—"

Kisame rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I think I did set up a trap near the kitchen…" he said, heading for the door. "I'll be back—don't do anything stupid, woman."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she muttered as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment Kisame's chakra was slightly farther away, Itachi stood back up.

"There is nothing wrong," he said. "There is no need for this idiocy."

"Oh, don't leave quite yet, Uchiha," she said with a minimal smirk. "I'm curious. What heart problems does he speak of?"

"He's delusional."

"I don't think so. Why are you so easily exhausted?"

"My Sharingan is activated all day, Chiaki Miho—it consumes—"

"I've told you before," she said thinly, "to not treat me like I'm stupid. I've known for years that using the Sharingan hardly affects your chakra reserves. So what is it?"

"Nothing," he said with an edge of impatience as he turned to leave.

Despite the effort, she climbed out of bed and stood in front of him, blocking his way out.

"I'm curious," she said.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he deadpanned, walking past her.

He was almost out the door when she spoke again.

"That's what's killing you now, isn't it?" she said. "Curiosity?"

He stopped. Miho's lips curled into a grin.

"What's the one thing you were ever curious about but ended up getting you hospitalized?" she said softly. "I know your familial records, Uchiha. There is no history of congenital heart disease. But the abuse of Saruji blood does lend similar symptoms."

Itachi didn't answer. She smiled wider.

"Ironic, isn't it?" she whispered. "I can't say I'm not pleased."

"You are making unfounded conjectures," he said. "I am perfectly healthy. Be sure to tell Kisame the same, or…"

His killing intent soared, and the smile positively melted into a shudder—it was stronger than Orochimaru's killing intent multifold.

"There will be hell to pay, Chiaki-san."

* * *

Miho did what Itachi had asked—demanded. She told Kisame that he was fine, a conviction that Kisame clearly did not believe, but Miho was so tired by that point that he'd left her alone to sleep.

Quickly the days passed into weeks, during which she never saw Itachi. She was strangely disappointed, but she did not know why—perhaps it was because she wanted to rub salt on the wound, relish the fact that it was highly likely that her blood was doing great work…

She soon was capable of walking around, and then she moved onto exercise, training to regain the muscle she used to have so she would not have to rely on her chakra so much for basic taijutsu. With the physical workouts came her normalized chakra flow—it took a long time, but it was comforting to see some improvement, no matter how small.

Humorously enough, Deidara helped her with her training occasionally. Perhaps "help" wasn't right word—"dictate" was better. He would sit in the corner and work on making new bombs while he barked out the next step of the regimen; she didn't know what it was about her, but she seemed to attract those poor, neglected kids whom no one else seemed to appreciate. She did not ask for his attention, and it was much to her disapproval that he took a vested interest in her physical recovery; he was, if not anything else, annoying.

Miho did not complain though—she merely nodded occasionally when Deidara asked her if she liked a new sculpture. It reminded her of the days when Sasuke would bound up to her, waving his report card wildly. The contrast in their personalities made her smile wryly, but she did not voice them aloud—she would not dare admit that she found some sentiment with an S-Class criminal.

A month had soon passed in the hands of four S-Class criminals; she vaguely wondered if they were really so aimless that they could all afford to babysit her for so long, but she didn't bother to ask. Something told her that she wasn't supposed to care.

It was the rainy season in Kusagakure and the downpours came torrentially. The weather made her insides ache at night when she was trying to sleep, but it was minimally bothersome—she had developed quite a high pain tolerance by now, and her condition had improved significantly since Deidara and Sasori had fished her out of Orochimaru's base. Still, it did not prepare her for all four of them to come into her room one day and announce that she was well enough to be tested.

"…Tested?" she said warily.

"Leader thinks it's necessary," said Kisame.

"Finally," said Deidara, stretching out his limbs. "We get to go do something, hm."

"What would this…test consist of?" asked Miho, wondering if she was supposed to be studying something.

"I dunno," shrugged Kisame. "It's up to him—he'll probably tell you when you get to the base. So for travel…you gotta be knocked out. Just for precautionary measures."

"I…" said Miho, backing up as Kisame approached her with a casually threatening Samehada. "I'm sure there's a peaceful solution to this—"

"There is, actually," he said. "Itachi-san?"

Itachi's blood-red eyes looked in her direction and she stiffened immediately with an averted gaze.

"I assure you," said Itachi dryly, "that genjutsu is much less painful than being knocked out with Samehada."

"I think I'll take Samehada," she said through gritted teeth.

"…Seriously?" said Kisame, surprised.

"Just hurry up," she said, jaw clenched.

Itachi shrugged. "Fine."

Kisame did not waste any time—Miho closed her eyes as he approached, but it was in times like these that she wished she could choose not to sense chakra because she knew exactly where his arm was and when it was going to hit, and even though she tried to prepare herself as well as she could, she was caught off guard by the blunt, forceful pain in her stomach, and then the familiar darkness claimed her.

* * *

"She looks a lot better now," remarked Kisame as they ascended into the sky on one of Deidara's clay birds. "Gained some weight."

"Thank God, hm," said Deidara, shuddering. "I had nightmares the first time she woke up…looked like a fucking ghost."

"You scare easily, Deidara-san," commented Itachi.

"Are you _trying_ to start a fight, Uchiha?" snarled Deidara.

"No," he deadpanned, turning to him with his swirling Sharingan, "not at all."

"Tch, you never know when this bird will take that slight unexpected dive and you'll just go tumbling off into nothingness…"

"I assure you, much to your dismay, perhaps, that I will land quite safely."

"Did Leader inform you of what she will be tested on?" said Sasori, startling all of them with his abrupt decision to recognize their existences.

"Medicine, obviously," said Kisame. "He's asked for you to prepare some poisons for her to find antidotes to…and then he will present her with some medical cases for her to cure…"

"So we have no purpose in coming," said Itachi, indicating his hand towards Kisame, Deidara, and himself.

"…I think there's another portion that we get to participate in," said Kisame with a growing grin.

"What would that be?" said Itachi, already apprehensive. Kisame did not get happy over normal things.

"I think…" he said slowly, "Leader wants us to play a game."

Itachi hated the way Kisame liked to beat around the bush for dramatic effect.

"And what does said game entail, Kisame," said Itachi.

His grin widened. "A hunt."

* * *

When Miho woke up next, she was severely sorry to see the change in landscape from her warm and homey hotel room. She sat up on the damp stone and looked around, unimpressed with the cold dankness of the cave she found herself in.

"…Good timing," said a voice behind her.

She whirled around, startled, for she had not felt any chakra near her. She was face-to-face with a shimmering projection of some sort, insubstantial and not exerting any chakra but…it was certainly a presence.

"Introductions seem to be unnecessary," said the projection, "as we seem to know of each other. You are acquainted with Sasori, Deidara, Itachi, and Kisame. Two additional members have arrived as well for your test."

"I don't…" she said, finding it rather difficult to speak, "I don't see why this is necessary."

"I will make myself clear," said the Leader. "If you do not stand a chance against Orochimaru, then do not for one second believe that you could take on any of the members of this organization. You are not terribly necessary, Chiaki Miho. Should you try to run, betray, or reveal us, none of us have any qualms over killing you. In the event that you behave yourself—we have no interest in controlling you through means of torture like Orochimaru. You behave, you live, you don't, you die. It is simple."

"I see no purpose in testing me then," she said.

"You are a well-learned medic and sensor, one that Akatsuki does not direly need but does not mind having in its arsenal. Additionally, your extensive knowledge of Orochimaru's whereabouts may help us in the future, though again, we have our own means of finding him should you not comply."

"Believe me," said Miho, unable to control her tongue, "I'd like nothing better than to see the bastard dead."

"Orochimaru is not our priority—we have other political issues to attend to, ones that you would be useful for. The purpose of testing you is to see whether or not you are capable of accompanying Akatsuki on such missions. We have no use for those who will only hold us back."

"So what do you want me to do?" she said, trying to keep her expression impassive while her heart beat traitorously.

"The first portion will test your medical capabilities," said the shimmer. "Hidan and Kakuzu will provide the cases."

"Who—"

Miho did not finish her inquiry for two figures entered the corner of her vision. As they drew steadily closer, she noticed that they were carrying a stack of…

"Are those…bodies?" she said incredulously.

"Yep," said the taller, silver-haired one as he threw them indecorously down in front of her. "Might wanna get a move on, lady—they're all gonna die pretty soon."

"What is—"

"Your test," said Leader. "Heal them all—do not let one die."

"There's at least ten people!" she said, enraged as the stouter masked one tossed his load down as well. A collective groan of pain echoed in the cave.

"We do not require useless people," said the projection. "It's on your head."

Miho did not waste any more of her breath. She knelt down immediately and brought her chakra-covered hands to the nearest patient's most obvious wound, a deep laceration at his throat; as she healed him, she gave a cursory glance to the other nine—all men, all suffering from lethal wounds but at least they were all physical. She began to make a list, which ones to address first, which ones she could address at the same time—this was not going to be as difficult as she'd thought—it would drain her but it was manageable.

Her captors watched as she worked. The taller one cracked a few lewd jokes to which his partner replied irritably; the Leader said nothing as, after half an hour, Miho sat back and wiped beads of sweat from her forehead.

"That's it," she said, breathing harshly.

"…Bring the next round," said the Leader.

"What—"

"Stamina is necessary—we do not require weaklings."

The second round was difficult, much more difficult—Miho was a long ways off from her status before her half-year in Orochimaru's torture chamber. She prayed silently that the second round would be the last of it as she finished them—not only had she wasted much chakra speeding through the first batch, but the second round had consisted of much trickier wounds and even poisons that had required much of her remaining chakra and concentration. A full hour elapsed and she finally leaned back, breathing harshly and unable to ignore the growing pain in her chest. She looked at the projection.

"Is that—"

"Next."

"You can't be serious," she panted.

"If you die healing them, then it's your loss."

The next five were brought in by Deidara, Itachi, Kisame, and Sasori; they watched her from afar and she tried her best to ignore them as her hands began to shake from the effort it took her to keep them steady. It was also hard to not notice Itachi's gleaming eyes in the darkness, crimson shades that watched her intently, unreadable—was he waiting for her to fail? Would he be glad?

So why did she get the peculiar feeling that he was worried?

It must have been her imagination—either way, it was not something she could debate for long. She was shaking violently by the time she attended to the last man, and immediately she knew that he was lost—it only took a cursory examination to know that she could not heal such a vital blow to the heart.

"It's not possible," she said faintly.

"Nothing is impossible," said the shadow.

"No," she said angrily, "even if I use my blood—"

"Do not use your kekkei genkai."

"There is no other way!" she snapped.

"Do not use it."

"Then he'll die."

"So be it," said the Leader emotionlessly. "Hidan."

The silver-haired giant swung down his scythe easily, piercing the man straight through the throat—Miho jerked back, suppressing a small scream as the man gurgled blood, gave one spasmodic twitch, and fell still.

"Continue," said the Leader.

"Continue what," she said breathlessly, "he's just gone and killed—"

The scythe came swiping at her; Miho dodged at the last minute, but she'd underestimated the range of it and it grazed her cheek, drawing blood.

"What the hell—"

"Here we go…" said Hidan lazily, licking the blood.

Normally, she would've voiced that ingestion of her undiluted blood would have catastrophic effects, but they could all go to hell—besides, something told her that such a small amount would have virtually no effect on an S-Class criminal.

She was reduced to watching in apprehensive horror as Hidan drew a seal on the ground, muttering something under his breath—she did not know what to expect but was seized with the desire to run as fast as she could, as far away as she could manage. In the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Itachi make a movement towards her, but then hold himself back, and an impending dread filled her—she knew she was in danger, but she didn't know why—she could only stare as Hidan's skin suddenly became the color of charcoal, and then before she knew it, she was watching him swing his scythe down, but it wasn't towards her—it punctured_ his_ chest—yet—

An excruciating pain entered her heart. Miho screamed but was cut short by the blood that was filling her mouth—she knew this pain, she'd felt it five years ago, when she'd been pinned against a tree—and with this familiarity came a fear—a black cloud began to creep at the edges of her vision and this was a sensation she knew, the feeling of death and the terrible pain that preceded it—

She gasped, blinking rapidly, struggling—

"This is the same wound," she heard the Leader say, his voice coming from some place far, far away. "A clean puncture of the heart. Hidan has done this multiple times—he's avoided his own heart just enough so that you have exactly five minutes to live—or die. Think of it as a learning opportunity. If you can heal yourself, then you know precisely how to heal this kind of wound in the future."

The blood was seeping from her at a frightening rate, carrying with it as much chakra as she had left. Struggling, she brought her right hand under her to her chest where it grappled for the wound and, with as much chakra as she could manage, forced it into her chest to seal it, going first from the inside and then outward, trying to sew together the feebly beating heart of hers. There was no time for failure—she only had a few more seconds of consciousness left and if it did not seal…she was reduced to praying, and then an idea sprang up in her—she used fingers laced with chakra to heal the layers, from heart outward, slowly, each finger taking its own course—minimal chakra, highly efficient—it was slow but it worked, she could feel the blood flow slow down as she finally brought her hand away and rolled over on her back, drenched in her own blood and sweat. Though the wound had closed, the pain had now overtaken her entire body and she could do nothing more than lie there.

"…We can proceed then," said Leader.

"She can't even stand, hm," called Deidara from across the cave.

"She'll force herself to if she wants to survive," was the curt reply. "Itachi. Hidan. Kisame. You can begin."

"Great," said Hidan. "Let's get started—I won't even cheat and stab myself again."

"…Wait," said Itachi.

"There's no need to worry, Itachi-san," said Kisame. "She's already gone."

They were all a bunch of sadistic bastards.

But Kisame was right—she was already gone; she had mustered up any energy she'd possible had left and disappeared as soon as she could. Miho leaned against a cold pillar some distance away as she tried to keep her pants quiet. A cool sweat veiled her face as she concentrated; she just had to avoid them—they wouldn't seriously kill her—but that bloodlust was unmistakable and really, who was she against all of them—

"Found you!"

Hidan appeared right beside her; he didn't hesitate for a second before swinging his scythe down at full force. Miho only barely rolled away, caught completely off guard. They were utterly merciless—she had not even had five minutes of rest, but that was it—there was nothing else she should've expected—what a fool she was, still thinking that she could trust, believe in people—how could she even thought that a shred of humanity existed in people like them—

She narrowly escaped Hidan and fell away from his sight into a slight crevice at the far right end of the cavern; she suppressed her chakra as much as she could and closed her eyes to focus—life or death, Miho, this wasn't a game, she knew that from only five minutes prior when she could see that reel of her life playing in front of her again. Kisame was easier to avoid, and now that she had the hang of Hidan, it was only a matter of hiding from Itachi, who…

Miho snapped her eyes open but it was too late; Itachi was already there, his eyes glaring crimson, his face expressionless. A crippling fear seized her; she opened her mouth to say something, but she had no words to say—she was supposed to fight, but—

Itachi covered the distance between the two of them swiftly and brought a hand over her mouth.

"If you want to survive," he said, his voice quiet and low, "you'll do exactly as I say."

His eyes gleamed and then the shape of his Sharingan changed from the three comma-like dots into an interconnected pinwheel. Miho tensed and immediately shut her eyes. She felt his hand tighten across her jaw.

"Do not make me kill you, Miho," he said, his tone lethal.

"Shouldn't be too hard," she whispered. "You've already done it before."

His grip was so tight that she thought he was going to snap her jaw in two. He let go, though, and she felt his presence back away. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

"…Remain here. Stay undetected for ten more minutes," he said monotonously.

He disappeared, his chakra bounding away into a different direction. His sudden activity attracted Hidan and Kisame to him, fooling them into thinking that he had found her—but that would mean that he was helping her, which made no sense, because out of all of them he was the least humane—he killed not with pleasure but with utter antipathy. She shuddered. No. She could not trust him. She needed to find a way out—if there was one at all.

But she couldn't. She hardly had enough energy to stand, let alone to try and find an escape route. She was in a pathetic state; there was no way she could land a single blow on any one of them at this rate. If she could believe Itachi in just the slightest, then the test would end in ten minutes, and maybe they'd just let her go—or let her rest—but that meant she had to believe what he'd said—

The ten minutes ticked by agonizingly. Twice she was forced to move to a different hiding place when Hidan or Kisame came too close—it was actually such a stupid test, playing hide-and-go-seek with three S-Class criminals—they clearly didn't get enough of a childhood.

She was nearly debating whether or not if she should just go and find Itachi when he appeared in front of her, his face as blank as ever.

"I'm done with playing hide-and-seek, Uchiha," she said.

"As am I," he answered, his Sharingan swirling. She did not have time to defend herself, not that she could have anyway—the world melted away and she was immersed briefly in a chasm of black before colors once again began to fold around her. It took her a few seconds to orient herself to the new surroundings. Everything was so sharp…the color of the sky was an ominous black, as was the full yellow moon that seemed to glint red at times, and then the smell, of evening cool and breeze, tainted by the rusty odor of blood.

Miho whirled around as the houses around her began to pique her memory—this was the Uchiha compound, the blood and bodies…this was the night, the night from five years ago…a chill ran through her, and she did not need Itachi's voice emanating directly into her ear to remind her of the truth.

"For the next forty-eight hours, you will relive that night—you will watch your father die, you will be stabbed against that tree, and just like that night, no matter how much you scream, no one will hear you. No one will save you. And you will remember, Miho, that in this world, there is no one who trusts you and no one you can trust. You are alone. You will be alone until the day you die."

* * *

Itachi did not have to pretend that he felt nothing as Miho collapsed onto the ground immediately after being hit by his Tsukuyomi; indeed, he felt more relieved than guilty. His punishment had been much better than anything Hidan or Kisame could have offered.

He was surprised to find that she was still conscious after suffering through that night for forty-eight hours, but Itachi was merciless.

"Interesting," he voiced aloud. "You're still awake."

He saw a visible shudder pass through her entire body before there was a retching noise. Itachi did not bat an eye at Miho's clear sickness.

"Kisame-san. Hidan-san," said Itachi, his voice loud enough for it to echo down the cave. "The hunt is over."

His fellow organization members joined him quickly.

"Damn it," said Hidan, "why do you get all the fun?"

"You used Mangekyou?" said Kisame, taken back. "Wasn't that a bit unnecessary?"

"Needless to say," intoned Itachi, "I prefer not to take risks with this one."

Miho said nothing through their conversation. Her gasps for breath were audible, slow, and cumbersome. Itachi did not let his guard down.

"Chiaki Miho."

She looked up, and the degree of hatred and despise on her face was enough for him to repress a shudder. Despite it, though, he could not help but notice a flash of bewilderment, of wary confusion—it passed as quickly as it came, but he could not have her getting the wrong idea.

"What I said in the genjutsu…" he said quietly as his Sharingan swirled to its normal form. She gave one last shiver before falling completely on the ground, motionless.

"You are alone. Do not forget it."

* * *

"…So what now?" said Deidara.

"Does she pass?" said Hidan lazily. "Because if she doesn't, you know, I'd be more than happy to kill her—"

"She'll do," said the Leader's projection.

Hidan let out an audible sigh of disappointment.

"Hidan, Kakuzu, you may return to your mission," said the Leader. "Deidara, Sasori, you may continue your pursuit of Orochimaru—tread cautiously and without haste; if unnecessary, do not kill him. His work with Itachi's younger brother may bear fruit. Kisame, you will come to the Land of Rain to meet with us—alone."

"Alone?" repeated Kisame, surprised. "What about Itachi-san?"

Dread swept through Itachi. He already knew where this was going.

"I refuse," he said flatly.

"I have not even said anything, Itachi," said the Leader.

"You intend to send Chiaki Miho and me on a mission together. I refuse."

"I have my reasons of sending you specifically."

"I refuse," he said with an edge of impatience. "I have no intention of being left alone with a madwoman whose only purpose in life is to see me dead—she doesn't have the capability of killing me, but she is a nuisance when she wants to be. Around me, that will be every waking second."

"Why does she want you dead so bad anyway, hm?" said Deidara.

Itachi ignored him.

"I require a married couple for this next mission," said the Leader.

There was a deadly silence after this statement. Given the confidence in their own abilities, the members of Akatsuki were not frightened of each other, but all of them except for the Leader turned slightly away from Itachi's blazing crimson eyes as his murderous intent flared.

"There is a limit to jokes, Leader," said Itachi.

"I do not appreciate wasting time, Itachi," said the Leader. "There is political movement in Kirigakure. The new Mizukage is formidable and has ousted many of Akatsuki's connections after Yagura's fall. We require meeting with a politician there—if necessary, we will have to control him."

"I do not see why I cannot do this alone," said Itachi.

"…A married couple arouses much less suspicion than a lone traveler," said the Leader. "Additionally…there have been rumors that he is…fond of other men's wives."

Itachi stared.

"There is no formal mission outline—we are not certain of Kirigakure's current standing, which is why this mission's goal is for you to gather information of the village in addition to establishing this meeting. Much of this covert information gathering should be left to Chiaki Miho—she is more disposable."

"…May I point out the many purposeless functions of this 'couple-like' set-up—"

"Itachi."

Itachi held his tongue.

"My reasons are not purposeless. Aesthetically, you attract the least attention. Kakuzu is eighty-eight years old. Hidan turns black when he drinks someone's blood. He is also too loud for covert missions."

"Hey, I can shut up if I need to—"

"Sasori is a puppet," continued the Leader tonelessly. "Deidara has four mouths. The only one that talks is too loud for covert missions as well."

Deidara opened his mouth to retort, but the projection's glare silenced him.

"If you want to talk about the rest of Akatsuki, Zetsu is hardly feasible as he is half-white, half-black, and lives in a plant, while Konan and I have no intention of doing menial work."

Itachi attempted to resist. "Kisame-san—"

"His chakra is gargantuan—covert missions are pointless with him. He is also blue."

Itachi was stumped. Kisame grinned widely.

"Looks like it's just you and her," he said, clapping a hand on Itachi's shoulder. "Get some—"

"Kisame, I am in no mood for trivial nonsense, and if you would like to retain your hand, unhand me," said Itachi lethally.

The contact between them disappeared immediately.

"Deidara, Sasori, Kisame, Itachi, remain with Chiaki Miho until she recovers fully. Hidan and Kakuzu—set out immediately."

"_More waiting_?" groaned Deidara.

Itachi swept wordlessly out of the cave. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that the Leader knew everything that had happened between Itachi and Miho, knew precisely that Itachi could not stand being around her for more than a few minutes without every buried part of his conscience being resurrected, and if he knew all this, then Leader had an innate, deadpanned sense of humor, and everything that Itachi had ingrained in Miho was wrong, for she was not alone at all…

No, she would always be there with him, whether or not he wanted her to be, for he should never have made the mistake of caring for her in the first place, for being selfish with her and keeping her close for the sake of his sanity because now—

It felt like they were embarking on a one-way road to hell together.

* * *

_I don't sleep. There is never a night where my mind is at rest and I am calm. I see the same faces whenever I close my eyes. Always Itachi at the forefront. And then Orochimaru. _

_Usually it stops there because Orochimaru terrifies me like none other—he is the bane of my existence, the solitary figure who paralyzes me when I think of him—it is pathetic, truthfully, but my dreams always stop there, just because I can't bring myself to go further, because nothing can be worse than him and the memories he has forced me to remember. _

_Sometimes, the faces go on. Sasuke, briefly, before Kakashi. Dear Kakashi. I want to call him naïve, but I know he is not. But still. He doesn't weigh lightly on my conscience. Your trust is so unfounded. _

_But it's not Kakashi who lingers. _

_It's my father._

_My father and his expression when he saw me for the last time that night. Terrified. Helpless. A face that no child should ever see being worn by her father. For it destabilizes something deep within you, to see your own father like that, useless and old, frightened and unable to act upon his wishes. _

_It shakes the very roots of your foundation, of your beliefs that there is someone in the world who seems indestructible. _

_I have no such figure in my life now. I only have that last image. My father. Helpless. Throat slit. His death is a memory I have played countless times—I see it most nights and everything about it remains as vivid as if it happened yesterday. The smells. The sounds. The feeling. A creeping seizure._

_And I just had to live through it for forty-eight hours._

_It's laughable, almost. Itachi is surprised that I was still conscious. _

_The weasel mask is the last thing I see, every single time before I close my eyes. Cracked in on the right side, caked in the blood from my knuckles. _

_It is an integral part of that night. I would never forget it. That mask is what makes the memory come back to life, bringing with it my fear, my hesitance, my final fury at Itachi's betrayal._

_Strange. That genjutsu. Forty-eight hours._

_The entire time, the mask didn't exist._

_And that's what kept me sane._

* * *

free talk:

hello everyone! sorry for the wait - i swear i haven't forgotten you all. :) thank you for your response last chapter - i seem to have attracted some new readers, which is always really great.  
hope you enjoy~ i hope i didn't kill personalities with some light-hearted akatsuki interaction, but seriously, i can't have them being so angsty all the time.

xoxo,  
m.n


	17. Meeting Point

**Chapter 17: Meeting Point**

"…Awake already?"

Kisame's sandpaper voice reached her ears harshly; she could not help but grimace as she sat up, head throbbing, and looked around. She was relieved to see that she was back in the hotel room.

"Only out a few hours," said Kisame, clearly impressed. "I thought Tsukuyomi took much longer to recover from."

Miho didn't reply his comment. It was dark outside, and judging by the eerie silence punctuated only by the feeblest of crickets chirping, it was late.

"…What exactly is Tsukuyomi?" she asked.

"You tell me," said Kisame, leaning back in his seat and causing it to groan reluctantly. "I've never been hit by one. I hear it's different for every person. What did you experience?"

"…The night he killed me," said Miho quietly, "for forty-eight hours."

Kisame nodded. "Yeah…it's an extremely strong genjutsu, judging from what I've seen. It's psychological torture of the highest degree that leaves the victim completely immobile…it fits Itachi-san's motto of 'mind over body.' He had Hataki Kakashi stabbed for three days straight, and I think he did the same thing he did to you to his little brother, when he saw him."

Miho looked at him sharply.

"You saw Sasuke?"

"Yeah," shrugged Kisame. "Little twerp. Couldn't land a blow. Itachi-san destroyed him."

"Merciless, isn't he." There was no inflection in her statement.

"Yep," was the nonchalant answer. "Didn't bat an eyelash. I've never seen Itachi-san surprised at anything—in fact, the only time I've ever seen him completely taken back was when he saw you that first time."

Miho said nothing and lied against her pillows as she drew the blankets around her. She felt tired, feverish, and in pain. The headache was steadily being overcome by the stabbing sensation in her heart. She curled up instinctively, trying to alleviate her discomfort.

If Kisame noticed, he didn't say anything.

"What exactly is going on between you and Itachi-san?" he asked.

"…You tell me," she said.

"I joke that he was your boyfriend."

"…It was nothing like that," she said, ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest as she struggled to think of a word that had described the two of them. She failed.

"Yeah. Didn't think so. He's emotionally incompetent."

"Everyone in this organization is," she muttered.

It elicited a razor-sharp smirk from Kisame; she vaguely thought it was the same expression sharks gave fish before they were eaten.

"…What do you think of him?" said Miho.

Kisame looked surprised at the inquiry. "Itachi-san?"

Miho nodded wordlessly. Kisame chuckled.

"I was mortally offended when we were assigned as partners five years ago. He was fifteen—youngest kid to ever be an S-Class criminal. Still, I thought I would find a way to get him killed. Clearly turned out harder than I thought. Kid is the smartest guy I've seen. It didn't take me too long to give him his space when he needed it."

Itachi…in so many ways, he was the same as he was before. Commanding the respect of everyone around him even when they didn't want to give it—she had long deduced the weight of his presence since she'd woken up in the hands of Akatsuki. Sasori left Itachi alone, Kisame was not afraid to annoy him but always knew where to draw the line, and Deidara, despite his clear antagonism, knew that Itachi was infinitely stronger and therefore didn't cross the boundaries Itachi dictated.

Kisame stood up and stretched.

"Finally…my shift's over. I'm going to guess you're in no shape to do anything stupid."

Miho privately agreed.

"We'll be waiting until you recover completely," said Kisame. "When you do, we've got work for you."

"Like what?"

Kisame grinned. "You'll see. You'd have a field day if you found out now."

She didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.

* * *

As the members of Akatsuki showed no further signs of physical assault towards her, Miho began to cope with her social impairments by journaling again. Thankfully, she had hidden this habit from Orochimaru and therefore had no problems Summoning her journals from her wrists to continue right where she'd left off. Her old entries seemed so long ago that it was all she could do not to cry over just how different she had been before those sixth months in Orochimaru's hands—her adamant statement in that latest entry, that she had probably seen the worst of what Orochimaru was capable of, was so painfully ignorant that she struggled with the desire just to shut the journal and try and forget everything that had happened.

But she didn't. She merely skipped over documenting the torture—what, indeed, was going to come out of her own self-pitying—and continued to battle with her own purpose of preservation. Now that she was in the presence of Itachi, her previous fervent musings seemed silly—he was, after all, just as un-killable as he ever was. Since he was in front of her…was she still going to try? Did she still hate him so much?

She saw no reason as to why she would stop hating him. She had just seen him slit Hiroki's throat an infinite number of times. And yet as much as that genjutsu had shaken her, there were so many things about it that were…off. He hadn't been wearing a mask, for one…he'd been wearing a Konoha headband instead. And the actions she was compelled to do through the genjutsu…she had run after him, but their fight had been prolonged…the tree he had stabbed her against was wrong…they had traveled further into the forest, not right at the edge…

Were they mistakes? Faults of her memory or his? And she could not shake off the feeling that he had been trying to help her throughout that sick examination of theirs; but was she being realistic or merely naïve?

Such speculations lined her entries. She tried to be conscious of the chakra shifting around her room and always stowed her journal away before an Akatsuki member came in, but one time, she was so deep in thought that she missed Itachi's chakra completely and was left hastily shutting the cover when he came in.

His eyes flickered over the journal, and she thought she caught a spark of recognition in his deadened eyes, but he did not mention anything about it.

"How is your condition?" said Itachi monotonously.

"…Fine," she said, trying to sidle the journal out of sight. For some reason, the way he looked at it—nearly accusatorily and with disdain—made her journal-writing seem incredibly foolish.

"I would like a more detailed answer," he said. "Elaborate."

"I am capable of moving all my limbs," she said coolly. "My heartbeat rate is eighty-three beats per minute and my blood pressure is eighty-five over fifty."

Like she'd thought, she didn't need to explain the numbers to Itachi.

"…Your blood pressure is low," said Itachi tonelessly.

It wasn't like that had been the only problem, but it was clearly enough of an issue to prevent her from going on whatever assignment Akatsuki was planning for her.

"Yes."

"Fix it."

"You should know that it'll take time," she said, shifting so that she could seal the journal away.

"Yes. I do," he deadpanned. "I mean to remind you that your recovery should be hastened."

"And I'm trying," she said, seething.

His eyes narrowed at her tone but he didn't reprimand her for it. Instead, his gaze trailed to the notebook that she made disappear with a soft puff of smoke.

"…You still write?" he said. His voice indicated no particular interest—he was as involved in the remark as he would've been talking about the color of his nail polish, which Miho thought was absolutely atrocious.

"…Sometimes," she said curtly.

He nodded almost absentmindedly as his gaze still remained fixated on that empty space where the journal had evaporated from seconds earlier.

"Still sentimental," he said.

Miho said nothing. A hard edge had grown in his voice. Instead of riling her, his comment made her think again of his strange approach to helping her. Words had lost their effect on Miho a long time ago—his warnings that she was alone and forever so did not strike her as much as the discrepancies in the genjutsu. The remark contained the barest traces of resentment that she did not let slide.

"Why does it matter?" she said. "I think I can still afford to be sentimental, Uchiha."

Itachi scoffed. "Really? I beg to differ—in the middle of a highly dangerous criminal organization, most people will not affiliate with a terrorist bomber and tell him that his sculptures are pleasing to the eye—"

"He asked and I merely replied—"

"Nor would they consent to remain with a shark-man and talk about sentimental things—"

"We were not being sentimental—"

"More than anything," he interrupted again, "they would not trust the murderer of their father and themselves in a time of life and death."

Miho fell silent.

"You are a fool, Chiaki Miho," he said icily. "Even in that kind of situation—"

"You got the memory wrong," she cut him off.

His eyebrow barely arched in inquiry.

"Really," he said, still deadpanning. "What part?"

"…The mask," she said very quietly.

She thought there was a flash of confusion in his eyes before it settled.

"…I see. It must have slipped my mind. The memory is not one I play constantly."

She grimaced at his nonchalance; there was so much more that had been wrong, but Itachi was right. What if they had just been simple mistakes on his part? She could not shrug off the feeling though, and it took her every bit of courage and pride to ask the question.

"Was it you?" she said finally. Only when it came out of her mouth did she realize how pathetically hopeful she sounded.

Again, the barely raised eyebrow.

"Was it me for what?" he said.

"…Who killed…" She found that she couldn't say it completely —she could already see the rising incredulity in his face and knew that he found her absolutely ridiculous.

"…Fool," he said, turning and sliding the door open.

He said nothing further and left Miho alone, bitter but with the faint suspicion that he was hiding something, though it was obvious that nothing relieved Itachi more than being rid of her presence.

* * *

He was an idiot.

Such statements of self-deprecation did not cross his mind often—he was a shinobi of incredible caliber undeniable to even himself—and yet he was an idiot to have made such an obvious mistake with the Tsukuyomi. Of course Miho would remember every minute of that night—he was a fool to have been presumptuous of Tsukuyomi's effects. Again and again, he found himself slipping around Miho—the more he needed to push her away, the more mistakes he made to bring her closer. He could not afford any more problems.

She was bad news in every shape and form. His heart was giving him problems again, and her presence did nothing to alleviate it. Miho was a constant stress, a near obsession as he thought of the appropriate course of action to keep her safe while keeping her in the dark.

"We're going to the city," announced Kisame one night.

Itachi looked up from his nighttime leisure reading, a hefty textbook documenting the history of ninjutsu since the first basic Katon, with a clearly unimpressed expression.

"Again?" he said monotonously.

"What, we gotta have _some_ fun with you two bookworms always holed up and doing nothing, mm," snarled Deidara as he stood up and stretched.

"I have no interest in such said _fun_," said Itachi, resuming his reading.

"Probably because you've never been laid, mm," muttered Deidara, casting an ugly glare his way.

Itachi said nothing and merely continued reading. An uncustomary silence followed though, and he looked up to find that Kisame and Deidara were staring at him with peculiar expressions—as if they were seeing him in a new light.

"What," he said, slightly annoyed.

"…I don't think I've ever seen you go out," said Kisame slowly.

"Yeah…" said Deidara, a grin spreading across his face. "I don't think I've ever seen you vaguely interested in…a woman, mm."

"Nope…" agreed Kisame. "Definitely not…"

Itachi glared at both of them, making a mental note to spike Kisame's crab cakes with poison later for egging on Deidara's insolence.

"What," he said. "Like I said: I do not care to indulge in the pleasures of life, much less…carnal pleasure."

They stared at him in silence.

"Never?" croaked Deidara, genuinely shocked.

"Ever?" echoed Kisame.

"…Leave," said Itachi dangerously.

"No, wait, we have to talk about this, mm—"

"Deidara-san, kindly remind me of a time I ever wanted to talk to you—"

"Aren't you like…twenty fucking years old?"

"We have to fix this," said Kisame, shaking his head. "Sasori can take watch tonight and you can come with us—"

"I have no desire to go gallivanting into the city and then copulating like rabbits," said Itachi.

He was not used to the look of utter condescension that Deidara was giving him, and despite his confidence in his own value, could not help but be a bit disturbed by it.

"Ooh, he said 'copulating,'" said Deidara mockingly. "You can really just say 'fucking,' you know, it's no big deal."

"Deidara, you better leave," said Kisame as Itachi's eyes began to swirl with venomous scarlet.

"But this is so—"

"Leave," said Itachi as the atmosphere around him grew deathly cold, "or I will kill the both of you."

Deidara gave one final smirk before leaving. Kisame followed after a contemplative pause, and only when both of them had disappeared from sight did Itachi relax his body slightly.

It had been an unexpected topic, one that he did not really ponder. Indeed, what was…_sex_ and all its implications in the face of the greater well-being of the world, of Konoha, and of Sasuke? No, Itachi did not have the time for selfish indulgences and extraneous social affiliations. In addition, there was something very wrong about paying a woman for her services—he always pursed his lips at the conversations Kisame, Deidara, and Hidan had regarding women and their commoditization. Women were not things—Itachi had learned that much from his mother.

He'd thought that Kisame and Deidara were well on their way into the city when he heard a noise outside in the hallway, something along the lines of yelling, and soon after, the door to his room slid open once again. Kisame walked in, a struggling Miho indecorously hanging over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, her thin legs kicking Kisame's chest—it was as effective as a woodpecker pecking steel. "I was sleeping, you can't just barge in and—"

"Here," said Kisame, tossing her onto the bed behind Itachi.

He stared at his partner, who looked extremely pleased with himself.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Itachi flatly.

"Here, have some fun tonight," said Kisame. "She's not ugly, you've had some history, I'm sure something will work out."

"I have no intention of forcing a woman—"

"Climb off your high horse, Itachi-san," said Kisame with a nonchalant wave. "You really think nothing of that sort happened when she was with Orochimaru?"

At the mention of Orochimaru's name, Miho seemed to finally realize why she had been forcibly carried out of her room. She stiffened visibly and her entire body recoiled by reflex into the corner of the bed.

"See?" said Kisame, nearly yawning. "No big deal. She's used to it; she'll know what to expect. Well, I'm off. Enjoy."

The door slid shut, leaving the two of them alone. Itachi was temporarily speechless at the gall Kisame had to even suggest such a thing—he thought he'd commanded the respect of his fellow Akatsuki members, but clearly not, especially in this department.

Miho stared at him with an expression Itachi was not used to her showing. She looked positively terrified, her body positioning showing a clear desire to run at the nearest sign of escape. Truthfully, Itachi had not thought extensively about Miho's time in Orochimaru's hands. He'd seen her body by accident already, and in an effort to prevent any further accumulation of guilt, had not thought any more of her torture.

He glanced her way. It was painfully obvious that Kisame had been right—why had it not occurred to him before—but it had; he'd just shoved the thought aside because it was so disgusting that he knew he could not control himself if he pondered it for too long—Orochimaru was the most vile waste of space on the planet—

"You can relax. I have no intention of doing something so low," said Itachi.

Miho didn't reply; she only retreated further into her corner of the bed, hugging her knees tightly.

"If you want Kisame and Deidara to lay off, you'd best give them the impression that…" Itachi grimaced, "something happened. Remain here for the night and go to sleep."

She scoffed, though her pretense at bravery did not quite match the deathly pallor of her insipid face. "What happened to not being so sentimental, Uchiha?"

"This is not sentiment, Chiaki Miho. It is…merely decorous respect."

"You can kill your entire family but can't force a woman to have sex with you?" she said scathingly. "I think you have your priorities wrong."

"Does that imply you'd prefer me to behave otherwise?" he said coldly.

She visibly held her tongue.

"I do not know the details of what Orochimaru did to you," he continued, "nor do I have the slightest interest, but kindly do not group me and someone like him in the same category. Despicable though you may find me, I pale in comparison to Orochimaru—I do not take pleasure in watching other people suffer, nor do I find it…honorable to…"

He did not finish his sentence. It sounded like he was trying to prove that he as "good," or at least, better than Orochimaru. Which he was, but it was not like there was any need to convince Miho of that fact. She was better off grouping them together, but it still did not mean that he would force himself on her.

"…I'm glad," he heard her say.

Itachi looked up from his book. "What?"

She did not say anything, but Itachi realized from her expression alone that he had made a mistake again—_why_ did he always slip around her; he had not made this many mistakes since he was _born_, there was no reason for her to be looking at him kindly. He was an idiot, his façade as a callous serial killer was already fading around her. He needed to do something, convince her otherwise, but for some reason, he could not muster up that courage—she had suffered enough; who was he to inflict more pain on her when those deepest scars already came from him?

Agitated, Itachi looked back at his book that was now a block of paper and ink; he was becoming overtly conscious of her stare, the outline of her profile. He vaguely remembered the sensation he'd felt that one illicit night when they'd held hands, that intense physical desire, and for a brief moment, he understood fully what Kisame and Deidara were telling him. He could not act on it though, he was above that—

"…How long has your heart been giving you problems?" said Miho suddenly.

The question came out of nowhere. Alarmed though he was, Itachi returned his gaze to her, giving no physical indication of his surprise.

"I thought we have already made it clear," he said silkily, "that there are no problems."

"Your partner isn't here," said Miho, "nor are the rest of your organization members. You can't hide these things from me, no matter how good you are. It takes me to get this close to realize, but…I can sense the extent to which your chakra flow around your heart is stilted."

When Itachi didn't reply, Miho continued.

"…It's…serious," she said quietly.

"I have no interest in your rambling," he said coldly. "There is nothing wrong, Chiaki Miho. You are only vocalizing your own ambitions, your wishes—"

"They're not," she said abruptly. "I don't…"

"Miho."

He was surprised with his own tone of voice, angered, indignant, so unlike himself, but he could rein it in—why was it that Miho would never play by the script he set up—he had given her hints as big as Samehada yet she ignored them completely, couldn't see what he was doing for her—

"Are you so blind?" he said, fatally bitter. "What do you mean, you don't wish for it? Has your heart changed so quickly? Have you forgotten already what I have done? Or are you that desperate to cling onto anyone who does not look at you with utter repulsion—perhaps you mistake me, Miho, for some kindhearted, baseless image of the past?"

He couldn't continue. Miho was right; his heart was causing him more trouble than it was worth, and the only reason she could sense it despite his veiled chakra was because it was agitating him to the point that he could no longer conceal it. The anger that had surfaced in his one-sided interrogation now spiraled out of his control; his heart palpitated so violently that he could only turn away from her and close his eyes, inhaling deeply. He merely needed to ignore her presence, focus his attention on the book in front of him.

_From __the __founding __of __Konoha, __shinobi c__apable __of __Katon __techniques __were __the __most __common __and __consequently __consisted __of __the __bulk __of __Konoha__'__s __combat __force._

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" she said. "You're slipping. You can try to hide it if you want, Itachi. I know already. Your heart is degenerating. The chakra flow is hindered by the your heart's physical deterioration."

She needed to shut up.

_Taking advantage of the elemental triangle, Konoha incorporated a series of changes in the front line by pairing Katon-users with Kaze-users._

But she didn't.

"I can't be certain without an examination," she said, her voice now so quiet that it was only because the rest of the house was so utterly silent that she was remotely audible, "but from what I can tell…you have around three years left."

His fingers, right about to flip the page, froze. The room froze with him; Miho did not move, he could scarcely hear her breathe, or was it because the buzzing noise of a definite death sentence, one that various doctors around the country could not give him, filled his ears? A miniscule part of him marveled at her quick diagnosis without even an actual examination, but…the rest…

Three years…it was not enough time. Sasuke still had two and a half years left with Orochimaru, during which he was only getting barely stronger. It would take more time for Itachi to play the role he was meant to play, and Sasuke would have to improve dramatically if Itachi wanted to make his loss feasible.

"…I want to ask," he said slowly, "merely out of…curiosity…"

"I'll need to check," she answered. "To make sure."

They were going in the wrong direction—he did not need to give her any more room than she had already taken. There was a doctor in Kirigakure that Itachi remembered was one of the better ones he had met previously; he would merely wait it out.

"No," he said, closing his eyes and regaining control of himself. "I have no interest. Knowing you, you would most likely make it up, perhaps giving me a shorter time frame to frighten me, or to give me a longer one so that death will claim me when I least expect it. I—"

His sentence was cut short as a cool hand slipped onto his shoulder. Itachi stiffened but did not turn around for her touch was surprisingly comforting, lilting in that faint reassurance of one who meant no ill-will.

_Why_?

After everything, why was she still so stubborn? It made him wonder—just how strong had her motive been to kill him? Had she even wanted to kill him, or was it just a pretense to find the truth? More than anything, why was it that after nearly six years, Miho still trusted him with the blindness of one who had not given up on him?

And why did he not want her to?

Itachi stood up abruptly.

"Go to sleep," he said curtly.

"…Do what you want," she said, retracting her arm. "Should you want an affirmation though…you can ask me."

"Why is it that you—"

"I haven't forgiven you," she said sharply, "if you're getting delusional and thinking I have. But I…I'm starting to think that there's a lot about that night you're not telling me."

She looked at him intently, and everything about what she'd said was a danger sign—exactly why he couldn't follow her train of thought was beyond him, because he had been doing everything he could have to steer her in the right direction.

"You're not…as heartless as I thought you were," she said softly.

It was all impulse, stupid and rash, a combination of spite and insuppressible desire. Itachi grabbed her and pulled her close, his lips clashed against hers awkwardly and really, where was the passion in all this, it was merely skin against skin, mouth against mouth—a mistake—Miho stumbled backward and he pushed her onto the bed, but as he did, his hand came up to her throat and closed over it. He heard her gasp as his grip tightened, her lips move against his as she struggled to escape.

"Are you convinced now?" he breathed, Sharingan slowly swirling into Mangekyou. "Did you really need an affirmation that I can be cruel if I want to be? Or would you like me to proceed?"

His hand slipped lower to her collarbones, hinting at the obvious, but he felt Miho move under him and immediately moved onto defense. He caught her punch effortlessly and pushed it tightly against her side, but then Miho's eyes flashed and he felt a jarring pain snap up his side as she kneed him with as much force as she could muster. Itachi sprang up but Miho did not give him time to give the space necessary between them; she followed up, Summoning two swords from her wrists and dexterously slashing them at him. He caught them between his fingers, but much to his surprise, Miho let go of both swords and with her bare hands lunged for him, pressing him against the wall and plunging her fingers into his chest. Itachi let out a pained grunt and attempted to retaliate, but Miho only dug her fingers deeper in; the pain grew excruciating, and with it grew a wild fear because he knew that she was inches away from pulling his diseased heart out of his body.

"That heart of yours sure has slowed you down," she said, her voice low and chilling.

Her fingers twitched and he inhaled sharply at the renewed wave of pain.

"I didn't say I forgave you," she said coolly. "You can stop getting the wrong idea."

She pulled her hand out indecorously; Itachi gritted his teeth at the sensation of his flesh literally being ripped out of his chest. Miho scoffed and met his gaze, her jaw rigid and eyes blazing.

"Go ahead," she said. "Pull out your genjutsu. You should've done it ages ago."

Itachi glared at her and merely straightened up, bringing his hand over the punctures in his chest and healing them.

"Tch," she said. "All bark and no bite. And you wonder why I'm starting to think you're not demented."

"Chiaki—"

"It's Miho, isn't it?" she said frostily. "You can't make up your mind—Chiaki or Miho, hurt me or help me, hate me or…" She leaned close and pushed his hand aside; she covered the punctures with her own chakra-filled hand and healed them instantaneously.

"Cheesy, right?" she whispered. "Don't worry—I won't even suggest that you _love_ me. We're beyond that. I'm just suggesting that you make up your mind."

She separated herself from him and headed for the door. Itachi let out a humorless scoff.

"Interesting that you'd say that," he said. He rubbed the skin over his heart where the pain was slowly dulling into nothingness. "I could say the same for you."

She didn't reply. The creaking of an opening then closing door announced her departure, to which the room he was in relaxed and grew just a little bit bigger.

He stroked the skin that had sealed without scars and for some reason felt the brief sensation of when their lips had collided.

Itachi grimaced.

Miho had made her point.

* * *

She had to admit that when Deidara came into room the next day vomiting, she was simultaneously repulsed and amused, for Itachi came idling in mere seconds later with a startlingly smug expression on his face.

"Fuck…you," said Deidara barely before dodging into Miho's restroom where the sounds of retching followed shortly after.

"You're welcome," deadpanned Itachi.

Kisame appeared behind his partner.

"What's going on—"

"You'd best prepare yourself," interrupted Itachi, turning to his partner with shimmering crimson irises, "lest you fall to the same unfortunate fate as Deidara-san. I do not tolerate impudence, and it is out of sheer respect for the last six years that your crab legs at lunch were not poisoned and you are not cowering over the toilet seat as well."

Kisame stared at him. Itachi merely shrugged and turned to Miho.

"He most likely came here expecting an immediate curative. I suggest you do not give him it—teaching rude children how to respect their elders is a hobby of mine that I find highly entertaining. I will be rather displeased to see the repercussions of his insolence cut short."

"…You sound like a grandpa," said Kisame, but he fell silent at Itachi's glare.

"In the meantime," said Itachi, ignoring Kisame and turning his attention back to Miho, "judging from last night, you seem to be in adequate condition for our mission to commence."

"…What?" said Miho piercingly.

"I do not appreciate repeating myself."

"I have no interest in going on a mission with you."

"Then resist. Kisame-san can kindly cut you up into fish food," said Itachi dully. "Rest assured that I am hardly ecstatic about the prospect of playing 'married couple' with a madwoman."

Miho stared. "_What_?"

Itachi reached into his robes, pulled out a stiff sheaf of paper, and tossed it at her. Miho crumpled it as she caught it.

_Official Marriage Certificate. _

_On __this __day,__seventy-three __years __and __two __hundred __thirty __days __following __the __founding __of __Kusagakure, __we __hereby __declare _Uchiha Itachi _and_ Chiaki Miho _united __in __marriage __in __the __presence __of __these __two __witnesses: _Deidara _and_ Hoshigaki Kisame.

Promptly as Miho finished reading, Deidara came stumbling out of the bathroom, temporarily gaining reprieve from the food poisoning.

"_The __fuck_, hm!" he snarled. "I signed your fucking marriage contract!"

"It was not necessary," said Itachi calmly. "I could have easily forged your signature."

"You forged mine," said Miho.

"Yes," said Itachi, closing his eyes.

"Which means, we're…married," she continued blankly.

"Yes," said Itachi, bored. "I suggest you get cleaned up—we're leaving for Kirigakure at nightfall."

Itachi stepped out of the room, leaving Miho with the certificate in her shaking hands. Kisame looked at her, clearly finding the entire situation—with a vomiting Deidara, a vindictive Itachi, and a thunderstruck Miho—rather humorous.

In three deft movements, she ripped the paper up into eighths and threw them into the wastepaper bin. Kisame looked affronted.

"That actually cost money, you know."

Itachi's droning voice came from further down the hallway.

"It's merely a copy. Chiaki Miho has violent tendencies—I thought it would be best to prepare ahead of time."

"Which means your _wife_ has violent tendencies," snarled Miho as she tried to get past Kisame and find Itachi herself. "What the fuck is going on? Why would I want to be _married_—let alone to _you_? In case you don't remember, I nearly pulled out your heart last night—"

"You what?" said Kisame.

"I wish you had," muttered Deidara, looking slightly green and rushing back to the bathroom.

"I thought I might let it slide," replied Itachi's voice, "considering I killed your father."

"Considerate," she spat, "really considerate, _Uchiha_, what the fuck is going on with you bunch of—"

Kisame shoved her back into the room and closed the door behind him. She glared daggers at him.

"Out of my way," she said furiously.

"Really bold now, aren't you," he grinned, crossing his arms. "Why don't we remind you a little bit of your place, eh? You're in a hotel with a bunch of S-Class criminals; do you think that just because you're healed, you can take any of us on?"

Miho bit down on her tongue so hard that it drew blood. Kisame's chakra spiked beyond its already gargantuan levels and she shuddered as she saw him stroke Samehada's hilt with loving tenderness.

"Then…explain," she said, stepping away from him.

"Ah. Your mission," said Kisame, beckoning for them to sit down by the table. "Well, we need to re-establish connections in Kirigakure, especially after the inauguration of the latest Mizukage. Leader figured that it would be best for a covert married couple to make those connections. Due to a severe shortage of women in this organization, you were, by default, chosen to be the wife. Due to aesthetic purposes…Itachi-san was chosen to be the husband."

"This doesn't…" She gestured violently at the trash bin. "This doesn't explain why we _actually_ have to be married, we could've used pseudonyms or…"

"The man you will be contacting knows Akatsuki—the only pseudonyms you'll be needing is for actually getting _into_ the village; past that, he needs to know that you actually are part of Akatsuki."

"Then the point of marriage?" said Miho, growing increasingly bewildered.

Kisame looked at her appraisingly, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"What?" she said irritably.

"I'll let Itachi-san tell you the details later," he answered. "You'll be leaving later tonight. We've arranged all your travel belongings and money—same rules apply: you try to run, we'll kill you. You try to betray us, we'll kill you. You try to kill Itachi…" Kisame grinned. "Well, that's just suicide. He'll just kill you."

* * *

Itachi could not say that he was not glad to be leaving the rest of the Akatsuki members. Deidara was getting on his last nerve—he really should've just killed him to be done with it—and Kisame's lewd comments ("An entire mission with her? Get some.") were more irritating than usual. Still, the company of Chiaki Miho was not something to look forward to, and so it was with slight distaste that the two of them embarked for Kirigakure, a trip that would take them at least five days without hindrances.

For the first time in weeks, Miho was outfitted in normal civilian clothing instead of a bathrobe that swallowed her into its depths. The chore of picking out Miho's clothes had been left entirely to Deidara, but as Itachi surveyed her now, he wished he had taken the burden on himself.

"You couldn't get a smaller size?" said Miho, tugging at her overly loose shirt of a pastel green that did not look flattering in the slightest.

"That's not the only issue," muttered Itachi as Miho tied the excessive cloth to the side with a rubber-band.

"Why didn't you just let _me_ pick out my clothes—"

"And risk you rampaging the village?" scoffed Itachi. "I think not."

Miho narrowed her eyes as they quickened their pace on the deserted road into a brisk walk. The road spun into a forest that they would cut through to shorten the amount of travel time; it was not going to be terribly comfortable, but Itachi had been to Kirigakure many times before and was therefore familiar with the caves that could offer a decent amount of shelter along the way.

"So why are we married?" said Miho in utter revulsion. Itachi saw her glancing at the silver band gleaming on her finger.

"…Kisame did not brief you?" he said.

"He did a poor job," she said.

Itachi did not make a move to answer the question. Indeed, he still could not understand why the marriage had been necessary—if the man they were meeting was really so interested in other men's wives, then Itachi did not see why he could not merely brainwash him with genjutsu and complete the mission successfully and _alone_. And indeed…the ring on his own finger felt like a ton of bricks; _married_? To the one woman he could not possibly afford to be married to? Fate was cruel.

"I asked you a question," said Miho shortly.

"I have no inclination to answer," he replied.

"You are—"

A rumble of thunder cut her off. They both glanced at the sky that was already darkening despite that it was only early evening. Itachi frowned imperceptibly; rain meant health problems, though…he had to admit that ever since that strange encounter with Miho the night before, his heart had surprisingly felt better. As if her odd healing had, though not fixed the problem, at least suppressed his symptoms.

"Let's move," said Miho curtly.

Itachi glanced her way. She was looking at the sky with apprehension.

He wanted to ask her what she was worried about, but then the events of last night returned to the forefront of his mind and he resisted. He was getting too close. The distance needed to trickle back in.

* * *

They had traveled in silence for several hours by the time the light rain began to intensify into a steady downpour. Itachi was feeling rather awake and actually strong considering that rain usually made him exhausted, but it didn't take him long to realize that Miho's state was the exact opposite of his. She kept up with his pace at first but as the hours stretched on, the disparity in their strengths grew clear; she was not fully recovered, and this was one of his better days.

Itachi could not help but be worried.

But could he let it show? What if…he gritted his teeth as he noticed her breaths grow more ragged…what if she got the wrong idea, what if she actually started to trust him again—

Yet he could not deny that he _wanted_ her trust, wanted her to seek him out, to feel comfortable around him, to maybe forget everything that happened with Orochimaru when she was with him—maybe in this way, he would be forgiven, maybe this was his way of apologizing for turning her life into a living hell just because of his selfishness five years ago.

He had been so lost in thought that it took him a second to realize that Miho was no longer walking abreast of him. Itachi stopped, drenched in the rain, and turned around. Miho was several meters away, keeled over, her hands on her knees as her profile shook visibly. Itachi approached her cautiously.

"…Shall we stop?" he suggested.

A vehement nod.

"There's a cave half a kilometer away—can you make it there?"

The nod came, though hesitantly. Itachi was dubious—her trembling was growing violent. He exhaled—the rain was falling harder and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Any longer and he would have to take care of a Miho with pneumonia. But he had to remain careful, cognizant of the fact that he and Miho were covering too much distance much too quickly. So he resisted the urge to pick her up, to carry her to the shelter at maximum speed, because to do so meant to show that he cared, and to show that he cared meant that he might as well show all his cards and tell her that he'd never wanted to kill her five years ago, that Konoha had ordered him to murder his entire family—

His mind was clearly trailing elsewhere, but Itachi gave no indication of it. He merely turned around and continued along the pathway without further ado. Miho followed, staggered, perhaps, but at their slower pace, she managed. It took a pathetic hour to cover only half a kilometer, given that Miho had to stop constantly, and by the time they arrived, the sprinkling showers had become a deluge.

Miho collapsed immediately, curling into her comfortable ball as she shivered uncontrollably, clearly in pain. Itachi looked at her, perplexed with her deleterious state—normally, it would be he, not she, who was uncomfortable because of the rain. Fatigue was not this drastic.

He didn't inquire, though, and simply set out to set up their sleeping site for the night. Using dry twigs and a small Katon, Itachi soon had a campfire bristling to dry them off. During this time, Miho had not offered a helping hand—not that Itachi needed it. All the same, it unsettled him.

"…You should remove your cloak," he said to her. "Let it dry."

There was no answer. Confused, he absentmindedly reached over and prodded her shoulder.

"Chiaki—"

"Don't!" she snarled, curling farther away from him.

Itachi remained silent. Miho's breaths grew shallower. And then, extremely quietly, she said,

"You should know how much it hurts when it rains."

It took a few seconds for him to digest, and then it all came coming back to him—the wounds she carried, the scars on her body…perpetual injuries that never fully healed, aching with the rain, reminders of whatever torture she had suffered through, and again a heated, acidic hatred for Orochimaru passed through Itachi. Yet again, he did not let it show.

He merely retreated from her, sitting near the fire as he let his own cloak toast in the heat. The thought of giving it to her passed by.

_No_, he thought firmly. _It __is __too __risky. __Too __obvious._

There was a soft noise from Miho. A stir.

A whimper.

He had overestimated how quickly she would've recovered; of course not, any undetermined amount of time with Orochimaru would take years to recover from. If recovery was possible at all.

He moved without thinking, ignoring his shrieking conscience, the pull to remain stoic. Miho was right—he could not make up his mind when it came to her.

Itachi shrugged off his cloak and covered her figure with it. She shrinked away at first, but when she realized he had no ill intentions, held the covering closer to her. And when her fingers brushed his, they lingered.

And when they wrapped in between his, he made no movement to tug them away.

Because this would always be their meeting point.

* * *

****hi! so sorry for the wait, guys. i've been busy and have been trying to finish up _diamonds in wine_, but finally got around to completing this chapter. :) hope you enjoyed! i'll try to update again soon.

have a very merry christmas and happy 2012! thank you for bearing with me. enjoy the holidays~

xoxo,  
m.n


	18. Trades of Trust

_sorry for the wait! i needed to finish diamonds in wine. thank you for all your support! hope you enjoy~_

* * *

**Chapter 18: Trades of Trust**

Of course, they mentioned nothing. Just like last time.

But not quite. Itachi was not antagonistic like before. Though he was far from cordial, he was, at the least, patient, which Miho was grateful for. She felt pathetically weak, but there was nothing she could do to make her condition better. The injuries she suffered from were not ones she could heal; they could only improve with constant rest and relaxation, but clearly, she was not given that luxury. Itachi, with his own perpetual disease, at least seemed to understand Miho's predicament, and therefore waited for her when she needed to stop and rest. That was the extent of his kindness though; he never picked her up, offered to carry her, or gave her his cloak again. She was glad—such actions would only make her more confused than she already was.

"What are your orders?" said Miho one night as they rested in a cave, a fire crackling warmly in front of them.

"Concerning what?" said Itachi.

"The mission. And why exactly I am coming with you."

"Did Kisame-san not brief you?"

"He told me that we were supposed to re-establish relations with someone in Kirigakure. And that a couple was less conspicuous than a solo traveler. I do not see the purpose of me, though, when you yourself are more than proficient in a covert mission."

Itachi did not reply immediately; he seemed to take his time processing what Miho was saying. When he replied, he was vague.

"You do not need to know the details until we arrive."

"Fine," said Miho irritably, "but it doesn't make any sense. If this were an imperative mission, then you should just go alone without waiting for me every half-day to recover. Surely your orders aren't to ensure that I survive, are they?"

"You will see," he said simply.

She could get nothing out of him after that.

* * *

They arrived at the outskirts of Kirigakure on the ninth night of their departure. Itachi glanced over at Miho, who looked utterly exhausted and disheveled. He'd initially wanted to wait until the next day to enter the village, but Miho would do well with an actual shelter and a hot bath; they would risk the additional suspicions laid on visitors who arrived past nightfall.

"It would be appropriate to change your appearance," said Itachi. "It is not necessary to have it be a drastic transformation, but…"

He fell silent, for Miho was already transformed, as if she changed into various personas often. She turned to him, her now unearthly beautiful face clean of grime and dirt that had accumulated over the last few days of travel.

"Will this do?" she said, and even her voice was slightly higher than it normally was.

He half-wanted to say that she was too beautiful, that it would attract too much attention, but then he remembered that the politician they were going to contact, Houzuki Rai, was a pathetic excuse for a man who was irresistibly attracted to other men's wives. Itachi did not mention this passing detail to Miho.

"It will," he said, closing his eyes briefly as chakra veiled his face as well. He turned to Miho with his new face—a higher nose bridge, slightly smaller eyes and a larger forehead. "Straighten out your clothes."

"And your cloak?"

He folded it up and tucked into a bag.

"Let us go."

They stepped down the mountain pathway leading into the village shrouded in mist.

"So who is the contact, exactly?" asked Miho.

Itachi did not like her new voice—higher now, it reminded him of how she sounded back when they were both merely children.

"Houzuki Rai. He is part of the Houzuki clan more by name than by blood, but he is an influential politician. Our goal is not merely to gain access into the political council of Kirigakure, but also into the heart of the Houzuki clan itself."

Miho did not reply immediately.

"The Second Mizukage was of the Houzuki clan. They've also produced many of the Seven Swordsmen, haven't they?"

"So it seems."

"…There was a boy in Orochimaru's hands."

Itachi glanced at her as quickly as he could without arousing suspicion; Miho's face was not hers, and so he could not read it. Her voice, though, remained surprisingly level.

"I believe he was one of them. Suigetsu." A pause. "He knew the hydrification technique; I had to treat him once, and it was incredibly difficult. When I took too long because I didn't know how to make him solid in order to treat him, Orochimaru electrocuted him and said that the time span of the electrical current was the time span I had to heal him."

Since she had landed in the hands of Akatsuki, Miho had never mentioned Orochimaru of her own volition. Itachi had always been tempted to ask, but for fear of seeming too sentimental, never managed to do so. The information she offered now, though disturbing and unrelated to her, was thus received with a silent and strange gratefulness. He offered no words of encouragement, though, and Miho did not speak again until they arrived at the gate.

"Stop," said the guard. "State your names and your purpose."

"Morito Ren," said Itachi smoothly. "And my wife. Saruji Miho."

He saw her look at him in caution, but there was no harm in using her true name; as evidenced by Kisame, the name "Saruji" was an unknown one outside of Konoha and even forgotten within it.

The guard looked between them, his eyes lingering on Miho, who smiled faintly. He blushed, but then quickly regained his composure.

"Purpose?"

"We are visiting an old friend," said Itachi. "Houzuki Rai."

"He has not alerted us of such a thing."

"It is an unprecedented visit."

"I'm afraid—"

"We've only recently been married," said Miho, her voice soft and eyes gentle. "We are making our way around the country to visit those who have helped us before and to pay our respects—Ren's father suggested that, as we were passing by Kirigakure, to say hello to Houzuki-san. If we're not allowed in though, it's fine—even though it's really late now, we can come by another time."

Itachi shot her a warning look, but it was lost on Miho; she smiled beatifically at the guard, who nodded.

"No, it is fine; please let me see your travel documents and marriage certificate."

"Why are they necessary?" said Miho, surprised. Itachi could sense the sudden tension in her voice.

"If you are telling the truth, then your marriage certificate is only proof of your story. Additionally, Houzuki-sama takes an…interest to such things."

"Curious," murmured Miho, recovering herself and turning to Itachi. "Ren?"

"Here," said Itachi, handing over the documents as well as the fake marriage certificate with their pseudonyms. He could see Miho's relief that he had them.

The guard looked over them briefly before handing them back.

"Very well, everything seems to be in order. I will alert Houzuki-san of your arrival. In the meantime, please find a hotel and turn in for the night—it is long past the hour for people to be wandering about."

With a nod of thanks, the two of them entered the village. Miho looked around as they walked through the damp and empty streets.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

"…A few times." He indicated for them to enter a hotel on the right. "We'll stay here."

"Why here?" said Miho. By the sound of her voice, she was surprised with the hotel's refinement.

"Because Akatsuki is known here," said Itachi, "and the owners of this hotel are the means to alert Houzuki of our true identities and purpose."

They stepped into the hotel and Itachi let his façade disappear. Seeing that Miho was about to release her disguise as well, he shook his head.

"Keep yours," said Itachi.

"Why?"

"Because you are more memorable that way."

If Miho was affronted by this comment, she didn't let it show. They approached the front desk. The receptionist looked up from his account books and recognized Itachi immediately, as he should have, for Itachi always left generous tips and was, unlike many of the other Akatsuki members, civil.

"Uchiha-san," said the receptionist, delighted. "Oh, and you are…not accompanied by your usual partner?"

"My wife," said Itachi dully, gesturing at Miho.

The receptionist eyes widened at the sight of her. "Oh. Wife…on…" His voice dropped a few decibels. "In word only?"

"On paper," said Itachi, pulling out the real marriage document and handing it across the desk. He could see Miho's eyes narrow in confusion, for she was missing an integral component of the mission.

"Oh, congratulations," said the receptionist enthusiastically. "This is splendid news and she is a true beauty. Ah, then…what does Akatsuki need? The new Mizukage is much stricter about these underground dealings, and…"

"You will be compensated for your actions," said Itachi. "In the meantime, we seek an audience with Houzuki Rai."

The clerk looked startled, his eyes swiftly darting to Miho before turning back to Itachi.

"Houzuki Rai is…very selective with who he sees," he said slowly.

"I understand the implications," droned Itachi. "Please alert him that we seek an audience with him—in the meantime, prepare a room for us to rest—it has been a long and arduous journey."

"Y-yes, right away, sir."

Itachi could see that Miho was growing more and more suspicious with her lack of information, and it was when they were in the confines of their suite that she demanded for what she was missing.

"What exactly makes this marriage—this _real_ marriage—necessary for this mission?" she said, her gorgeous disguise now fading into her normal scowl.

"That is none of your concern."

"You can't just say that it isn't my concern," said Miho angrily. "I'm here for a reason—"

"You're here," said Itachi coolly, "because you are Akatsuki's prisoner, and I am merely your warden. You are here at Akatsuki's convenience—do not forget that."

"If it were mere convenience, you should've just killed me when I was taking so long to travel."

"That was a minor problem," said Itachi silkily. "Rest assured that if the problems escalate, I will have no qualms leaving you behind."

Miho let out a furious hiss before she disappeared behind the doors of the bathroom. Itachi could sense her chakra levels spike just briefly in her agitation before they disappeared instantaneously again; moments of silence passed, where he could just imagine her leaning against the door, breathing quietly to calm herself down, before the sound of the shower water began to run.

He let out a breath. The mission was going to be a long one.

He had always preferred working alone.

* * *

"Akatsuki wishes to acquire an audience with you, sir."

Houzuki Rai looked down at the servant apathetically. "They should know that the recent change in power has made contacting them extremely dangerous. I have no interest in risking myself in their dealings. Not unless they have something to offer."

"Twice the normal compensation," said the clerk.

"I have no interest in money. Which pair of them is it this time?"

"Uchiha Itachi."

"And Hoshigaki Kisame?"

"No, he is not here."

Houzuki's eyebrows furrowed. "Very rarely do they travel alone."

"He isn't alone…"

"Who is accompanying him? Deidara?"

"No…apparently, his wife."

Houzuki let out a bark of laughter. "Wife? Akatsuki has enough time on their hands to get married?"

"She is an extremely beauteous woman."

Houzuki straightened up. "Beauteous?"

A nod. "Yes, quite lovely. I believe you would find her…to your taste."

"I see…" Houzuki sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Her name?"

"Chiaki Miho."

Houzuki's eyes widened imperceptibly, but he nodded all the more vigorously. "Very well, I will see them. I assume the Uchiha knows the way…these dealings work."

"I believe so—he said he understood the implications."

"Very well, grant them an audience for tomorrow night. Make sure this Chiaki Miho accompanies him. In the meantime, make sure all the defenses are set up: seals, traps, and the shields that disable chakra sensing."

"You would go to such a measure?" said the receptionist, surprised.

"You forget who we're dealing with," said Houzuki dryly. "This is an organization of S-Class criminals; as unimposing that Uchiha Itachi may seem, he is hardly to be taken lightly."

"I will be sure to do as you ask then. Excuse me."

Houzuki waited for the servant to disappear before speaking aloud in the empty room.

"It's as you expected, isn't it?"

There was rustling behind the screen door, and a low, silky chuckle.

"Not quite…it's much better."

* * *

Itachi waited until Miho had fallen asleep to contact Kisame. As their subconscious projections met at the normal convergence point for Akatsuki members, Itachi automatically noticed that Kisame was in a good mood.

"What is it," said Itachi, bored.

"So did you and crazy girl have sex—"

"Stop being so morbidly predictable," Itachi muttered. "Are there any orders?"

"Nope, Leader just wanted to know that you guys arrived."

"Yes, just now."

"Took a little while, didn't it?"

"There were…health concerns along the way."

"Yours or hers?"

Itachi bristled. "Hers, clearly."

"Don't pretend, Itachi-san. It could've very easily been yours. Traveling to Kirigakure always took us longer because it rained so damn much on the way."

"I was fine."

"So she's not well?"

"She is far from recovered."

"Weak."

"Half a year and more in Orochimaru's torture chamber, Kisame-san. I highly doubt anyone would be recovered after mere months."

"She shouldn't have been caught in the first place," said Kisame lightly. "Orochimaru is no big problem."

"Your monstrous strength does not exist in everyone, Kisame-san."

"I suppose not," he admitted. "All the same…I expected her to be a little more…durable."

"…Meaning?"

"Even Deidara says that she looks like she's about to break any second," he explained. "I just thought Akatsuki's healer would be a little less fragile."

Itachi didn't answer.

"Say, Itachi-san," said Kisame.

Kisame had grown serious. Five years of knowing Kisame meant that Itachi had long come to dread the times that Kisame was serious.

"What is it?"

"How much do you care?"

"…Care for what."

"Don't be so obviously stupid," said Kisame. "The girl."

"Why does it matter?"

"The mission will be much simpler if you let Houzuki sleep with her and be done with it."

"…I know."

"Yet something tells me that you're not going to let that happen."

"…I merely don't agree with this method of approach."

"You killed your entire family, but you won't fuck her? Let alone get someone else to?"

"If I did," said Itachi testily, "what would make me different from Orochimaru?"

Kisame laughed his grating sandpaper laugh. "That's the thing, Itachi-san. We're _not_ different. We're all the same damn basket—you don't need to get all high-handed and pretend you're more moral. This is the way we function, Itachi-san—what's one woman in the face of our grander schemes?"

"I don't take pleasure in watching people squirm in pain."

"Well, on the contrary, I do. And if I were you, I'd let Houzuki do whatever the hell he wanted with her because she's not my business. It would make life a whole lot easier."

Itachi did not reply.

"Itachi-san, if she's going to get in the way, let her die. Akatsuki doesn't need her, and if she's going to make you doubt…you don't need her either."

* * *

When Miho woke up the next morning, she found herself alone.

Itachi and she had barely exchanged words the previous night, for she had been too frustrated and exhausted for additional confrontation, and Itachi was never one to actively seek out a fight. By the time she had finished showering, Itachi had already laid out the futon that he was going to sleep on, leaving the bed for her. She had accepted the action without thanks; she had expected it. No matter how callous he portrayed himself to be, Itachi was not one to let a woman sleep on the floor.

Breakfast had already been brought to the room, though by the looks of it, Itachi had eaten nothing. Miho cast a cursory examination of the room; there was no note. Slightly perturbed by the fact that Itachi was comfortable leaving her alone, Miho sat down and began to eat. Perhaps Itachi assumed that if she escaped, he could find her easily. Miho smiled grimly at the thought. She could never beat any member of Akatsuki, but she was a professional at running away and staying hidden; if she truly wanted to, it would not be a problem.

But of course, running would solve nothing. She was not wholeheartedly against working for Akatsuki—it was no worse, or perhaps even better, than working for Orochimaru. They, at least, took no interest in her blood and found torture to be an unnecessary measure of control. The threat of death was enough to keep Miho in check, for now that she was this close to the sole purpose of her existence, she had no intent of giving it up.

There was a knock on the door. Immediately, Miho covered herself with her disguise, and adjusting her voice slightly, called,

"Come in."

The receptionist from the night before appeared and bowed deeply.

"I hope you found your breakfast to your liking," he said.

"It was fine," said Miho. "Are you looking for…Itachi?"

The name rolled over her tongue cumbersomely; the name that she uttered easily in rage and fury seemed out of place in her tranquility. Hardly any wife called her husband by his surname, though, and Miho had the slightest suspicion that she was expected to play her part as the dutiful wife even when Itachi wasn't present.

"Yes."

"He isn't here," said Miho. "He stepped out earlier this morning—can I take a message?"

"Yes, I'm here to tell you that your audience with Houzuki Rai has been granted, and he will be expecting you tomorrow night, one hour before midnight."

"So late?" murmured Miho.

"I'm afraid so."

Miho nodded. "Thank you, I'll let him know."

"My pleasure."

He bowed out of the room. Miho sighed and stood up, pushing aside the relatively untouched plate of breakfast. Itachi would want to know…though honestly, it was not like she couldn't wait for him to come back and tell him. She was, however, curious as to where exactly he had gone so early in the morning. Closing her eyes, she began to sense for chakra; it took some time, given how cleverly concealed Itachi's was, but she found him in the western part of the village, right in the middle of a bustling crowd.

Miho tossed on an atrocious yellow dress that had been in Deidara's bag of fashion. Frowning, she also pocketed the bag of money. It would not hurt to go shopping for herself. Clearly, no one in Akatsuki had any fashion sense. Given that they painted their nails and were all S-Class criminals, though, she shouldn't have expected them to.

Miho took her time stalking Itachi, careful to remain the appropriate distance away from him. Tracking was the easiest thing for her, even easier than healing. It cost her no energy, no effort; all she had to do was be sure to remain a few steps behind, look like a completely different person, and let her sensing capabilities take care of it. Now that she knew Itachi's chakra well, it was not difficult to follow him without being discovered. She idled at the food vendors lining the street and bargained at the clothing stores; for a village that was perpetually shrouded in a dreary mist, Kirigakure had better clothes than Miho had expected. She bought two sets of traveling clothes and two yukata, all of which were pale and cool in color. Perhaps the villagers liked blending in with their grayscale surroundings.

Trotting quietly, Miho followed Itachi to the second to last house on the main street. She waited until he had disappeared inside before she approached the front door, letting down her disguise in order to suppress her chakra as fully as possible.

_Narita Clinic. _

It made sense. Of course Itachi had no intention of letting her come with him to a checkup. Miho could not suppress a little smirk. She was easily the best doctor in the country—even Kabuto couldn't compare. Perhaps Senju Tsunade could, but maybe she was dead, which would make Miho the best by default. Which meant that Itachi was a fool for turning to someone else for answers.

Miho pushed open the door quietly, unsurprised to find the lobby empty, as she had sensed that the only two people in the clinic were concentrated in the examination room. She couldn't blame Itachi—she had nearly torn out his heart before. She truthfully made a terrible doctor.

She set down her bags at the front door and tiptoed over to the examination room, where she hovered behind the door and strained to hear.

"So you say it's been getting worse?" said an unfamiliar voice, whom Miho presumed to be this Narita doctor.

"Mm," said Itachi's voice. "It is harder than before to travel without exhaustion."

"How was the trip here then?"

"…There were some unprecedented circumstances," said Itachi carefully. "This trip was better than most."

"Let's give your heart a listen then."

Minutes of silence ensued before there was a sigh and a metallic clack. Narita had set down his stethoscope.

"Your heartbeat is surprisingly clear right now, but I can tell it's just temporary."

Miho found herself nodding unconsciously. This doctor wasn't too bad; what she had done to Itachi before was merely ease the chakra flow within his heart and get rid of any roadblocks of chakra she could find in that instantaneous moment. By no means had she actually repaired any bit of his diseased heart; the chakra build-up would only happen again in due time.

"You did a good job, clearing the chakra pathways—it certainly helps your blood flow."

"…Mm."

"…I hope you understand that there is no permanent solution," said Narita heavily. "I can only give you medications; if you may continue clearing the chakra pathways and that may help—"

"How do I do that?"

"…You mean to say that you weren't the one who did it before?" said Narita, surprised.

"…No."

"Then you've been to another doctor? I merely assumed that you would be able to do it—but then again…it is rather advanced. You're not a healer…"

"It is something I can learn."

"It may be better for the person who did it last to continue doing so—he or she did a very clean job of it, and it is a dangerous business to do yourself, as one simple mishap could even sever an artery."

"It will not be difficult for me," said Itachi stubbornly.

"Who did you see?" said Narita.

Itachi did not answer. Narita, sensing his unwillingness, sighed.

"Very well, I will give you your medications. I have an appointment in ten minutes, so it would be best if you left now and came back tomorrow—I will teach you then."

"…Much appreciated," said Itachi.

The door slid open, and out stepped Narita, an elderly man with graying hair and soft wrinkles lining his forehead.

"These are pills that you should take once—who are you?" he said, retreating immediately upon seeing Miho.

Itachi appeared milliseconds later, his eyes flickering in alarm upon seeing Miho, who remained where she was.

"Hello," she said dryly.

"…What are you doing here?" said Itachi, his voice deadly.

"Followed you," said Miho. "I was wondering where you had gone so early in the morning—not too hard to track you down."

Itachi's eyes had swirled to his Sharingan. She looked determinedly away from them.

"Looks like you found yourself a pretty good doctor," she continued. "He seems to know what he's talking about."

"Leave," said Itachi lethally.

"You know drugs are only going to suppress the symptoms, right?" she said. "They're not worth it—the side effects are what's causing the chakra and blood clots. Your best chance is continually more intense chakra healing—surgery is also a possibility."

"This is not something you should be concerned with, Chiaki Miho."

"Excuse me," said Narita suddenly.

Miho glanced his way.

"Yes?"

"Are you the doctor he's been seeing?"

She smirked faintly. "Sort of."

"She prefers trying to kill me," said Itachi sardonically.

Narita looked as if he didn't know whether or not he was supposed to take Itachi seriously.

"He's telling the truth," said Miho blandly. "We are not friends."

"…You are part of Akatsuki then?" said Narita.

"…No…" said Miho slowly. "More or less…here against my own volition."

"You had plenty of opportunities to run," said Itachi. "Why did you not?"

Miho did not answer.

"You did a splendid job with the last chakra clearing," said Narita briskly, clearly only interested in medically-related issues. "You're right in that the drugs will only help to a certain extent—unfortunately, Itachi is not here long-term so I cannot treat him consistently. If you can, though, it would ease his discomfort tremendously."

"I have no interest," said Miho coolly. "If we leave him alone, he'll be dead in three years. Nothing would make me happier."

Narita looked stricken by her response, but what surprised Miho was that Itachi, whom she expected to remain impassive, grew rigid. She did not let herself dwell on it—she needed to believe the words she'd just said, because they were all that made logical sense, she could not let little hand-holdings and ridiculousness mean anything more.

Yet the reconciliatory words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I was just kidding," she said. "…I know what to do should problems arise."

"I'll be here tomorrow, Narita-san," said Itachi, shrugging on his cloak.

"Ah, but…"

"It may not have occurred to you that I happen to be an extremely adept shinobi," said Itachi. "As advanced as this technique may seem, I assure you that I'll learn it after seeing it once."

"Yes, but…"

But Itachi did not stay for any longer. He stalked out of the room; Miho could sense his irritation, confusing though it was. She made a movement to follow, but Narita stopped her.

"Are you a doctor?" he asked.

"Not his."

"Then why—"

"It's a long story."

Narita looked conflicted. "As a doctor, it should be your duty to help those around you."

"Indiscriminately?" said Miho coolly.

"It's what I do."

Miho's voice dropped a few notches. "When I was fifteen, that man happened to stab me against a tree and left me to die."

She ignored Narita's audible shock.

"But even before that, I've never saved people indiscriminately," she said icily. "It's not in my nature."

She turned to leave.

"After all, why should I when no one would come and save me?"

* * *

_The hours tick on, and we're just left in this hotel room of stagnation and silence. He is showing no inclination for conversation, and I cannot say that I am in the mood. I feel like I've taken multiple steps back from psychological recovery—again, I am mulling about the unfairness of the world, of why I had to suffer more than five years of damnation all because of…_

_I don't even know what it all was for. Why did he kill his family? On sheer whim? And so that's all I was to him? A mere whim? _

_Here I am reduced to wishing that he had only been a mere whim to me as well. _

_And still is._

* * *

The hour was late. The barest sounds of crickets chirping outside lent the village a mood more eerie than it already had. Itachi rolled over the futon, uncomfortable, for some strange reason. He was used to sleeping on the ground, outside, even, and yet the futon that he rested on now irritated him in every way—his back ached, his skin itched, and when his mind could not help but wander. Kisame's words of truth resonated in his mind, had been echoing in his thoughts all day, but what bothered him more was whether Miho would or wouldn't care if Itachi really did just die. Three years. Why would she care? Wasn't that her goal? But he would rather see her try and kill him than for her just to wait on the sidelines for his heart to eat him away from the inside. At least her murderous attempts showed interest, no matter how hateful, for hatred was much better than mere apathy.

His heart now began to cause discomfort, and coupled with the rest of his issues, he could not stand it any longer. Itachi sat up and looked around the room. Much to his surprise, Miho's bed was empty. There was a small stream of light from the bathroom and as he listened intently, he could hear the slightest rustling of paper.

He stood up and approached the door. Without preamble, he pushed it open, revealing Miho curled up against the bathtub, her journal on her knees as her pen scratched against the pages. She looked up at him, startled by his intrusion.

"…Why aren't you sleeping?" he intoned.

"Couldn't," she said tersely.

"Our meeting with Houzuki is tomorrow," he said. "You should be as well rested as possible."

"Then you go to sleep," she said, a hard edge in her voice. "I function perfectly fine without it—besides, I hardly see why I'm here anyway. You would be fine with or without me; why should I even be preparing for this mission?"

"Because Houzuki Rai will want to interact with you, and you alone," said Itachi coolly. "If you want to fend him off, then you'd best be in top condition."

A series of light bulbs seemed to go off in Miho's head. Itachi could see her piece every subtle hint together, and perhaps she had heard rumors earlier in the day as well, for she seemed to understand everything perfectly. What took Itachi off guard, though, was the severity of her reaction.

Before the journal fell to the ground, Miho had covered the distance between them and had him pinned against the door frame. Her arms were trembling visibly, but it was with a level voice and flashing eyes that she said,

"So you want expect to say 'yes' to this mission without any problems?"

"You shouldn't be having problems," he said silkily. "You don't have a choice."

"You should know by now," she said, her voice now shaking, "what _he_ did and if you had _any _consideration for me—"

"Why should I?" The words fell out without thought. "You are the one who does not care if I drop dead in three years."

Miho's eyes widened. She let him go, a derisive scoff echoing through the bathroom; she retreated from him, widening the gap between them.

"Of course,' she said softly, more to herself than to him. "I am….che." Her bony hands gripped her elbows as she determinedly avoided his gaze. "To think that I even began to hope…"

"…Hope for what?" said Itachi cautiously.

She ignored him, too lost in her own despair. "Orochimaru or Akatsuki, what does it matter—"

He approached her.

"Hope for what?" he repeated, his curiosity gnawing at him—she was hoping to trust him—this idea had long rooted itself in his mind, and he found himself desperately wishing that she would trust him again, unreasonable as it was because he had hardly given her reason to do so—

He stepped towards her, his hand unconsciously reaching up for her cheek—

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, half-shrieking. "Don't you dare fucking touch me—"

She retreated farther now, but she was already close to the wall and had nowhere to run; Itachi pressed close to her, cornering her against the wall like he would his prey. His hands rested on either side of her head. She crouched away from him, eyes finding everything except his gaze.

"Look at me," he said quietly.

She refused.

His right hand slinked to her jaw and, firmly gripping it, tilted her face towards his. An audible hitch in breath, the sound of shallow breathing; everything about her was so sharp, sounds, slightest scent of the hotel's complementary ginger shampoo, and he realized that in comparison to the beautiful woman disguised herself as, he preferred this Miho much more, the vulnerable, the tangible, the understood. He did not know what was possessing him. His hands wandered, one sliding around her neck, the other to her waist—was this how people hugged, what they did in consolation, consideration—because he did care, he just could not show it, but no one was looking now and maybe if he had slipped up this much, it was beyond his control and he would just let Fate spin its twisted wheel. He wanted her hope, her old trust, blind and unconditional, no matter what the odds were against him—and he already had it, he just needed to solidify it, say the right words so that she would be his again, the emotional support he needed to complete what was required of him.

"I need you to trust me."

She did not reply, but her gaze was fixated on his, the eyes of the drowning at the sight of the very last lifeline; he had her now—he was her last redemption.

"Houzuki Rai will not touch you," he said. "I will not allow anything to happen to you."

He slowly pressed her towards him so that they were chest to chest, her breath warm against his neck, the scent of her hair overwhelming him. One step past the hand-holding.

He felt a pressure on his back, near his shoulder blades, the feeling of thin arms encaging his back. Lips pressed against his neck, a kiss that was not a kiss. They were not at that step yet.

But they were progressing.

* * *

"You don't have to go to Narita."

They had chosen to remain in their room for the following day.

"Why not?" he said.

"…I'll take care of the problems," said Miho quietly.

Itachi did not answer, but she caught his hesitation.

"You don't trust me?" she said evenly.

So that was how it was going to work. Trust for trust.

A life for a life.

* * *

"Houzuki Rai is a formidable opponent," said Itachi. "You will have to remain with him alone for at most fifteen minutes—you are strong enough to hold him off for at least that long. During that time, I will be granted access to the council of Kirigakure that interacts directly with the Mizukage. I will choose several to control; after I do so, I will return for you."

Miho moistened her lips nervously.

"Fifteen minutes," she said quietly.

"You are more than capable to hold off for even longer," said Itachi calmly.

"Fifteen minutes," she repeated.

Itachi found her eyes. "Fifteen."

* * *

He did not expect it to be a difficult mission. He had been to the Houzuki mansion multiple times before and knew with one casual glance the whereabouts of any traps, hidden shinobi, and all the rest of the visible guards.

Which was why he knew the moment they were escorted into the inner hall that things were not going to go as smoothly as he'd hoped. Miho knew it as well as he did, for she was the most affected.

Chakra barriers. In his normal paranoid foresight, he had asked Miho how chakra barriers affected her, just in case Houzuki had new installments.

"Most don't affect me," she said. "It takes some time to get used to them, but I can sense like normal once I've adjusted."

"Yet there are some that do obstruct your capabilities?"

"…Few," she said thinly. He waited for elaboration. "…Orochimaru made a few."

One glance at Miho confirmed that these chakra barriers Houzuki had installed were among the few that affected her. Itachi could sense the intense panic that was beginning to mount in her; not being able to sense made Miho blind. Under the façade of beauty, he noticed that she was shaking.

"Calm down," he murmured. "You do not need to sense for anything."

They sat in the inner hall, waiting for Houzuki to appear. He entered half an hour later, thus giving Miho enough time to relax, albeit slightly.

"Uchiha-san," said Houzuki, smiling in greeting, causing his middle-aged face to wrinkle.

Itachi could not help but be repulsed. He merely nodded curtly in return.

"And this is…?"

"…Chiaki Miho," said Miho quietly.

"Ah…pleasure," said Houzuki, leering closer. "Now, as I understand it, you wish for access to the council's meeting tonight, Uchiha-san?"

"Yes," said Itachi. "It need not be for long."

"I see…well, it is extremely dangerous to be affiliating with Akatsuki nowadays, with the new Mizukage's stringent rules…"

"I understand."

Houzuki arched his eyebrows. "Do you really?"

Itachi glanced at Miho.

"Why do you think she's here?" he intoned.

Houzuki let out a bark of laughter. "Well put. Very well, my servant will lead you to the council room—in the meantime…" He beckoned to Miho. "Chiaki-san."

Miho remained rooted to the ground.

"Miho," said Itachi curtly.

She slowly got to her feet, her hands twisted with themselves.

"Come, come," said Houzuki lazily. "No need to be concerned—we shall merely spend some pleasant time alone." Houzuki clapped his hands, and a servant appeared at the side door. "Show Uchiha-san to the secret stairwell above the council room. When you are finished, Uchiha-san, you may return to your hotel; I will send your wife back after I am finished with her."

Houzuki stood up and gestured for Miho to follow. As she stepped behind him, she glanced back at Itachi.

"Fifteen," she mouthed.

He nodded. They disappeared behind the screen door.

* * *

She tried her best not to let the fright show. Fifteen minutes was enough—she could do it. She was feeling stronger than before—the full day's worth of rest had helped. Yet she half-wished that she didn't know what Houzuki was looking for, because if she had merely seen him as an enemy to fight, she would've been able to react appropriately. The prospect of reliving Orochimaru's most effective torture shook her more than anything, and she found herself mentally praying to someone, anyone, that she would be all right. That Itachi would come when he was supposed to.

"In here," said Houzuki, opening a door and revealing a bedroom, where the futon had already been laid out.

She wished she could sense her surroundings. She could not even gauge how much chakra Houzuki had, did not know what would be the best way to react and hold him off once he made his approach. The room was surrounded on all sides by sliding screens, and Miho could not shake off the feeling that there were more people around, people that she wished she could sense. She could not identify an escape route, a way to leave if she needed it—

"Please, sit," said Houzuki. Miho sat formally down in the center of the room, her mouth dry. "Do you need anything? Wine, perhaps?"

"I'm—" Her voice had come out in a parched crack. She swallowed and spoke again. "I'm fine."

"Very well. Chiaki Miho, was it? A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

Someone chuckled, but it wasn't Houzuki. Miho stiffened immediately. The sound had come from behind a screen, and she felt like she recognized it.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of her. She found her hands tightening already, and slowly she moved her wrists over each other so that the Summoning seals overlapped.

"Hm, more docile than I've been told."

Miho stared at him.

"…Told?" she repeated.

"Ah, yes. You must be wondering. You've only just joined Akatsuki, after all—how am I supposed to know anything about you?" Houzuki chortled. "Well, you see, I have a patron who has a vested interest in you. He happened to be telling me that he expected Akatsuki to visit me soon, with a certain woman in tow."

Miho's blood ran cold. The chuckle from behind the screen door now seemed more familiar than ever.

"He's very anxious to see you," said Houzuki.

The door in front of her slid open, and Miho stifled a scream at the sight of the man from behind the screens as she recoiled as far as she could.

"Mm, I must say that this look suits you," he said, his yellow eyes wide with delight as he feasted on her. "Quite beautiful. Though I must admit…"

He raised his arm and before Miho could even react, a snake pelted out from the sleeve of his robe and wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her close to him so that his tongue grazed her cheek as he spoke.

"I much prefer your regular look," Orochimaru whispered, his lips curling into a smile. "Welcome back to me, Miho."


	19. Lover is Childlike

**Chapter 19: Lover is Childlike**

The fact that nothing was going as Itachi had planned caused him no little concern. He had wanted to snag a councilman at the precise moment that he exited the meeting, which Itachi had presumed would end within fifteen minutes of his arrival. Yet it seemed like the meeting was going overtime, which left Itachi waiting impatiently in a hidden passageway that overlooked the council room. Worse, one of the Mizukage's bodyguards seemed to be an incredibly adept sensor; had Itachi not had so much practice trying to hide his chakra from Miho, he would've been found out instantly.

The presence of chakra barriers in Houzuki Rai's compound worried him. They had not been in place the last time Itachi had visited Kirigakure, nor were chakra barriers that were capable of hindering Miho common.

As Itachi lied in wait, the dreaded thought suddenly struck him.

Kirigakure's government would not provide Houzuki Rai with such high level barriers, not when they had such an incredible sensor on their part. It was more likely that Houzuki had installed the barriers to keep the council out of his compound. Which meant that it was likely that…

Itachi gritted his teeth. But could it be that coincidental? Could Orochimaru…what would Orochimaru want from Houzuki?

But then everything made sense—Miho had said it all—there was a boy that Orochimaru had, a Houzuki clanmember, and though the details were unclear, they were completely unnecessary—Orochimaru had provided Houzuki with the chakra barriers.

So was Orochimaru here, in Kirigakure, right now? He couldn't be. There was no reason for him to be here—no, he was supposed to be in some deserted area, working in his filthy laboratory…

No, there was no possible way that Orochimaru was in Kirigakure. Itachi would have noticed before. He allowed himself to breathe a little easier—sometimes, his mere pessimism caused him heart problems. And when he thought about things logically, the chances of Orochimaru being in Kirigakure at the exact time as Akatsuki was unlikely—Orochimaru was doing his best to avoid them, after all. There was no need for concern.

Besides…Itachi had a mission to complete, and in the larger scheme of things, he was supposed to heed Kisame's words of caution. He did not need Miho. If Miho would challenge what he could become, she was disposable. And she had done enough damage.

Regardless of his reasoning, Itachi felt an incredible wave of relief when the council members stood up to leave. It was already long past the fifteen-minute mark—he could only hope that Miho was more capable than she made herself out to be.

The sensor bodyguard tapped the Mizukage, a beauteous woman, on her shoulder and gestured lightly in Itachi's general direction. Itachi felt his blood run cold. They knew.

Before they could lunge for his hiding spot, he moved into the corridor and grabbed the first person he could find. It was an elderly man, and Itachi had to be thankful that at least something had gone right that night, for the man made no sound as Itachi quickly wrapped him in a genjutsu, implanted his orders to report to Akatsuki while scanning for information. There were several who favored Akatsuki in the council—not everyone supported the new Mizukage—and luckily, this old man was one of them. It did not take much effort to convince the councilman to report to Akatsuki. The seconds flew rapidly; Itachi did not stay for long. The sensor and Mizukage were drawing nearer; the instant they arrived in view, Itachi fled back into the hidden stairwell, praying that he had not been seen.

"Elder!" said the Mizukage. "Are you all right?"

"Why…why yes," said the elder, blinking. "Yes, I don't know what came over me…daydream, perhaps. It must be my old age."

"I see…you should hurry back to your quarters," she said. "Ao and I are going to look around—he thinks that he may have sensed something."

Itachi recognized the sensor—an ANBU veteran who had taken the eye of a Hyuuga member for his own. It would be dangerous to stay any longer—no matter how much Itachi could conceal his chakra, the color of it could not be hidden. He took a deep breath, and summoning the reserves of chakra for a brief moment, he concentrated it all in his legs and disappeared from the corridor in one swift second. Whether Ao sensed him did not matter as long as Itachi could escape the Mizukage's tower.

Only when Itachi was nearing the Houzuki residence did he allow himself to concede that he was not being pursued. It had gone smoothly—Akatsuki would be pleased.

Miho would not.

* * *

One quick movement.

She was surprised with her own reflexes, but perhaps the sight of Orochimaru—with all his terrifying connotations—overwhelmed any other fear that she had prior. She dropped her disguise, regained herself and Summoned a thin sword easily. It took that one quick movement to slice off the head of the snake that was wrapped around her and then she pulled away to the opposite side of the room. Out of pure chance did she duck right when Houzuki's leg came pelting towards her—she jerked away again, hampered by the chakra barriers, and realizing very quickly just how poorly she fared when she was chakra-blind.

"Good to see that you've recovered," said Orochimaru. "Though I must say that you're still leaning a tad towards the weak side."

"What are you doing here?" Miho demanded.

"Why, I was waiting for you," said Orochimaru, surprised, as if it were obvious.

"How did you—"

"I have my ways," he smiled. "I would elaborate, but unfortunately, I don't have time to dally—Sasuke-kun tends to get antsy when I'm gone for extended periods of time."

Miho did not answer. She had only learned recently that Sasuke had gone to Orochimaru willingly; though she wasn't completely surprised, she was disappointed. She could not afford to give Sasuke much thought —she was in a battle of life and death—yet she could not prevent the creeping bouts of intense resentment build towards the younger Uchiha. Orochimaru was her worst nightmare and she was doing everything to avoid him, but Sasuke had willingly waltzed into his arms. Half of the resentment was for Sasuke's confidence, for she knew that Sasuke would never give his body over to Orochimaru, but the other half stemmed for his willingness to give up his freedom.

But when Miho thought about it, she'd done the exact same thing when she'd given up the life in Konoha with Kakashi.

"So how does it feel finally being in Itachi-san's company and having him whore you out?" said Orochimaru lightly. At her stony silence of a reply, his smile broadened. "Might as well just have stayed in your little cell, mm?"

"We hadn't really anticipated for you to be here," said Miho through gritted teeth.

"Really?" Orochimaru scoffed. "So you had a plan?"

"Somewhat," she snarled.

"Miho, Miho, Miho," sighed Orochimaru. "Did you truly think Itachi would actually have a feasible plan to help you? Did it not occur to you that this _is_ his plan?"

It had.

But Itachi had been sincere.

She hoped.

"So what was this so-called plan of yours?" said Orochimaru, jeering as he took a step towards her. To her right, Houzuki approached as well. Miho backed up, scanning the room for exits. The wall behind her was thin; she could break through it. She placed her hands surreptitiously behind her, filling them with chakra.

"Perhaps just to stall until Itachi returned?" he continued. "Do you think he'll actually return for you though? Are you not merely the bane of his existence?"

Orochimaru's suggestions were not new to her—she had contemplated Itachi's motives enough, but he was sincere, he knew that she couldn't go through this, and he would come back—

"How long were you supposed to stall?" Orochimaru asked.

Miho answered by exponentially increasing the pressure of the chakra in her hands—the wall behind her collapsed immediately, and as the rubble began to fall, she ducked through the first exit she could find, blindly fighting her way through the falling wood, wishing that she knew that layout of the manse better. It wouldn't have mattered though, for a snake jutted out behind her and wrapped around her ankle. Recovering her sword, Miho decapitated it effortlessly, but in the same time span another two snakes launched themselves at her and wrapped around her arms. She felt herself being dragged back in the room, and by the time she had cut loose of the other two snakes, Orochimaru was right in front of her again. Miho did not lose any time—she threw the sword at him spontaneously, but Orochimaru merely sidestepped it. Her hands formed the seals for a Kaze jutsu, and as the wind attack blew forward, Orochimaru was forced to dodge more completely, giving Miho a chance to run back.

But she had forgotten about Houzuki, whom she nearly collided with as she backtracked. Taking both of them on simultaneously was too much to handle—Orochimaru alone was impossible—and Houzuki was just a distraction; before she could retaliate, Houzuki's fist slammed into the back of her head. A crippling pain jolted from her head down her spine and she crumbled instantaneously. It did not take long for Orochimaru's snakes to fully immobilize her, wrapping around her wrists and keeping her on the floor. Another slinked around her neck and mouth, the scales rubbing abrasively against her skin as they forced her neck back and kept her gaze in Orochimaru's direction. She could taste blood from her lips as the scales scraped against them—she did not dare cry out.

"A valiant effort," said Orochimaru. "Useless, but valiant."

"What should we do now?" said Houzuki.

"Crush any bit of hope she ever had," replied Orochimaru easily. "She's a fool for believing Itachi would even think of coming. You may have her, if you wish. Since that was what you had been planning."

Houzuki surveyed her dubiously. "I had expected her to be…more attractive."

"She's a delight," said Orochimaru silkily. His eyes found hers and he smirked. "I know from personal experience."

She knew where all this was going—she could not afford this; she had not fully recovered, the nightmares were still fresh, there was no way she would go back to Orochimaru without finding a way to kill herself first—

Fifteen minutes. It had to have been fifteen minutes by now.

But why the hell had she even believed that she could trust him? Itachi had no reason to help her—he did not care—it had been fifteen minutes already and she should've learned this lesson by now—

In this world, there was no one she could rely on but herself.

And even that was debatable.

* * *

Itachi did not amble back to the Houzuki residence. Though he had successfully convinced himself that there was no way Orochimaru would be in Kirigakure, nearly thirty minutes had elapsed already. Miho was strong enough to take on Houzuki, but a promise was a promise, and he had broken it.

The guards had proved to be mere cannon fodder. Itachi had cast a minor genjutsu over the expanse of the manse, eliminating a majority of the sentries who were caught off guard. The few who had managed to remain conscious only took several seconds to knock out, and within minutes Itachi had returned to the lobby of the manse where he had last seen Miho. The chakra barriers hindered him as well, causing him to waste precious seconds checking various hallways before descending down the middle corridor, where on instinct, he slid open the second door on the right.

The sight inside threw him: Orochimaru was standing in the center of a room that had half a wall blown away, and amidst the rubble was Houzuki, kneeling over a bloodied Miho whose yukata had been hiked up to her hips. The look on her face was one that Itachi had only seen that one night, when he had woken her up from a nightmare—a fear that seized her, the desperate look in her eyes; her nose was bleeding and the snakes around her body had created shaved lacerations along the lines of Kisame's Samehada. It was clear that she had struggled multiple times—her face was suffering multiple contusions—but Miho had been beaten down. An immediate, intense rage flooded Itachi. His Sharingan swirled venomously and he took a step forward.

"Itachi-kun," said Orochimaru, clearly surprised. "Why…" He looked between Itachi and Miho. "Why are you—"

"What are you doing here?" said Itachi, his tone deadly.

"I'm here to pick up my specimen," said Orochimaru. "Miho, after all, is none of your concern, isn't she? Why would you care about her?"

"Get off of her," said Itachi to Houzuki.

"This was the deal—"

Itachi did not waste any more words; he disappeared from the entrance and send Houzuki crashing against the wall. There were many more effective ways to incapacitate him, but the pulsing blood fueled by his anger made this form of fighting much more enjoyable, for at the moment nothing seemed more tempting than beating Houzuki to a bloody pulp and then tearing off Orochimaru's limbs, one by one.

Yet Itachi was a master of self-control. He allowed that one punch to be his sole act of indulgence, and sadly, it was enough to knock Houzuki out. The man slumped to the ground, unconscious, and Itachi turned to Orochimaru.

"I'm surprised, Itachi-kun," said Orochimaru silkily. "This certainly isn't behavior approved by Akatsuki, is it?"

"It's none of your concern," said Itachi smoothly.

"Now, seriously, Itachi," said Orochimaru, unfazed. "You can't keep this girl with you. She wants to _kill_ you. Surely you don't want her following you around? She's much more docile in my hands…"

The snakes encasing Miho began to shift, tightening, and Miho let out a whimper.

"See?" said Orochimaru. "Very easy to manipulate. Took me five years but…she's rather perfect now. So let me have her, mm?"

Itachi's eyes merely blazed.

"A deal," offered Orochimaru. "I have already infiltrated Kirigakure—my base here, all the information…it's information that Akatsuki could use well. Give me Miho in exchange—I'll abandon exploits here, and Kirigakure can once again be strictly Akatsuki territory."

"…And you think Akatsuki would need your blessing to establish itself here again?" said Itachi.

"Not necessarily," admitted Orochimaru, "but I could certainly make things easier for you. This isn't a bad deal, Itachi-kun. You do not _need_ Miho, and I do not _need_ Kirigakure. It is a fair exchange."

Itachi took a fallen katana and swiped it twice, cutting the snakes ensnaring Miho in half.

"Get up," Itachi said to her, "and stay back."

Miho sat up shakily.

"It'll be over quickly," he said, his voice much lower.

He could feel the pressure in his eyes increase as the Mangekyou activated. Orochimaru took a step back, clearly wary.

"Let's not blow this out of proportions, Itachi-kun."

"We shouldn't have to," said Itachi. "You leave, Miho remains with me, and you will never touch her again."

"You aren't serious?" said Orochimaru. "She is none of your concern, Itachi-kun—"

"Do you want this to be blown out of proportions?" interrupted Itachi.

"I'll call your bluff," scoffed Orochimaru. "She is more trouble than Akatsuki deems necessary—I daresay that the organization is more than happy to be rid of her, and your willingness to protect her is only personal. I have spies in Akatsuki, Itachi—do you want this reported?"

Itachi allowed himself half a smirk, though he found nothing about the situation humorous. "Are you threatening me, Orochimaru?"

The Mangekyou swirled ominously, and Itachi was just about to launch a genjutsu when Orochimaru finally backed down.

"Very well," he said, all pretense of formality now replaced by a very disgusted look. "If that's the case, then…"

"You will leave," intoned Itachi.

"Fine," snarled Orochimaru. "But Sasuke-kun will stay with me, and after three years of nurturing his body will be ripe—"

"What you choose to do with Sasuke is none of my concern," said Itachi. "Leave."

With one final scowl, Orochimaru disappeared with a puff of smoke. Relieved, Itachi turned to Miho, who was gripping her bleeding neck so tightly that the skin around her knuckles was white.

"He's gone," he said quietly.

"…You're late," she whispered.

"…I'd underestimated the meeting's length," he said. "It wasn't—"

"Fifteen minutes," she said, her voice growing slightly louder but tremulously. "You said—"

She broke off in a scream. An arm abruptly wrapped around her waist and dragged her backward—from the darkness appeared Orochimaru's face again, wide in a smirk, as Miho quickly disappeared in the teleportation jutsu. Without thinking, Itachi grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her violently back; his eyes burned and a black flame appeared over Orochimaru's pasty face. There was an agonizing scream, and the force that was pulling Miho back finally let go and she plummeted against him. He held her there as the flames from Amaterasu faded with Orochimaru, whose curses resounded briefly in the air before the teleportation jutsu finally expired.

He could hear the sound of harsh breathing, could feel Miho's trembling body in his hands, could hear the blood rush in his head as fatigue ran over him as it always did after Mangekyou use. Amaterasu had not been necessary, but he had not been thinking clearly—all he'd wanted was to inflict as much pain on Orochimaru as possible, and despite the weariness, Itachi felt a vindictive satisfaction knowing that somewhere, the snake was writhing in agony.

A few feet away from them, Houzuki began to stir. It was perfect timing. He blinked at the sight of them, as if it were too difficult to digest.

"What…is the meaning of this?" coughed Houzuki. "We had a deal—"

"A deal that I unfortunately did not choose to uphold," said Itachi.

"Do you understand now?" said Houzuki angrily. "I will not cooperate with Akatsuki—you will have to fend for yourselves now in Kirigakure—"

"I think you're the one misunderstanding," said Itachi, his eyes glowing red. "You will report to us, you will not betray us, and you will never associate with Orochimaru again. Additionally…" The pinwheels swirled, and Houzuki, mesmerized, could not resist the genjutsu. "Should anyone from Akatsuki ask what happened," continued Itachi in a low voice, "you will remember none of this. Understand?"

There was a dull nod. Houzuki murmured something incoherently, and then slumped back onto the floor, unconscious. Itachi adjusted Miho in his hands.

"We have to leave."

* * *

He took Miho back to the hotel, where he treated her wounds enough to prevent them from bleeding. The blows to the face, however, were beyond his capabilities, and so he left her to treat them herself as she bathed while he rested his eyes.

He found himself dozing in and out of sleep. Mangekyou had taxed him tremendously, which worried him—he had only used Amaterasu briefly. His head throbbed, but his heart, at least, was not giving him as much trouble as it normally did.

It took him a while to realize that Miho had been in the bathroom for a long time. The room was covered with a heavy, eerie silence, and it struck him that the shower had stopped running.

He stood up, slightly disoriented, and knocked on the door of the bathroom. There was no answer.

"Chiaki-san."

Silence. He wondered if she'd fallen asleep.

"Wake up," he said, knocking more urgently.

There was still no reply. The silence bothered him, and it reminded him of Miho's atypical stillness on the trip back. While she was not the most social person, her silence was different this time—cold, pensive, and lonely. The thought that she would perhaps do something drastic passed through his mind, and he knocked more fervently.

"Respond," he intoned, "or I'll come in."

The door slid open mid-knock. Miho stared at him listlessly, wrapped in a bathrobe with her hair still wet. She had repaired the damage to her face, but it seemed to have taken a toll on her. She was paler than ever and was shivering slightly. There was, however, the familiar traces of a scowl.

"What?" she said uninvitingly.

"…You've been in there for over an hour," he said. "The water stopped running a long time ago."

"…I was just thinking."

"Really," he said. She was holding the door open marginally, and when he tried to look past her, she shut the door so that only a sliver of the bathroom was visible.

"…What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I'll finish bathing and come out—"

Yet Itachi knew intuitively what Miho had been doing. He forced open the door and looked towards the bathtub. It was half-full and at a glance, clear, but the red tint in it upon close inspection was undeniable.

"What is this?" His tone bordered dangerous.

"Nothing," she said. "I'll be done in a bit. Just leave—"

"What were you trying to do?"

"Nothing—"

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled it up. The vertical cut, placed perfectly over her vein, was shallow but still bleeding. With one smooth brush, he healed it and then dragged her out of the bathroom.

"Let go."

"What were you trying to do?"

"I was just…trying something."

"Trying something?" he repeated. "You were trying to kill yourself—exactly what did I save you for, Chiaki Miho, if you don't respect your own life—"

"Why _did_ you save me?" she interjected.

"…What?"

"What did you come for?" she asked. "Wouldn't everything have been easier if you'd just left me—if you just hadn't come back? Don't you hate me?"

"…Why are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Why do you care?"

Itachi did not have a proper reply. Miho looked away from him, her face expressionless. When she spoke, her voice was flat.

"Wouldn't life just be easier if you didn't care?"

"Go to sleep."

"Why do you care—"

"Chiaki-san—"

Miho suddenly lunged at him, but the attack was completely different from before. Her arms wrapped around his neck; she kissed him softly, her breaths shallow, her fingers cold. She was gentle but chilling, and it was not just because she was not fully dry, but there was something about her that made Itachi shiver at her touch. He pushed her away.

"…What are you doing?"

"Why don't you let me kill myself?" she whispered.

"…You need to sleep," said Itachi, guiding her to the bed.

"No," she said, preventing movement. "Just let me do it. I'm worthless. Akatsuki doesn't need me. Orochimaru only wants me for my blood."

"This is a conversation I am not interested in," he said. "You need rest."

"I can't—"

"Sleep."

"_I can't_."

Her grip on his wrist had grown so tight that he felt the circulation cut off. Itachi made no movement to comfort her; he remained perfectly silent and still. The effects of Miho's solemn insistence, as effective as a shriek, had faded when she finally let go. Graced with feeling in his hand again, Itachi shook it out surreptitiously and resumed staring at her.

"What do you want?" he said.

In the dim lighting of the room, Miho's pale face made her look like a ghost. She was so thin, fragile, her eyes deadened. He didn't know what she wanted—but he was beginning to feel the urge to take her in his hands, to balance her thin waist against the palms of his hands, to feel the touch of her icy skin and warm it back to life. He wanted to resist, but then Miho leaned forward, and though she didn't kiss him, her lips brushed his neck. Her hands rested on his chest, gripping the mesh shirt. Itachi remained frozen, his feet rooted to the ground—he didn't know how to respond, he had never been in this kind of situation. When he didn't respond, Miho grew more insistent. Her hands began to roam, and her lips began to inch up to his chin and then they were kissing again, this time without the persistent coldness.

Itachi inhaled deeply—mind over body, mind over body—but fuck the mind—he held her back, his hands cradled her waist tightly, he could feel the bony outline of her spine as he trailed one hand up her back. The embrace grew tighter, the kiss more intense, and finally they had crossed the line they had been teetering since she'd fallen into Akatsuki's hands. He knew that she was desperate, that seeing Orochimaru had set her back to the start of emotional recovery—and yet was reacting to her advances taking advantage of her? Was enjoying the curious sensation of her tongue trailing against his lips, his cheek, his neck—was it wrong?

Hesitating, he kissed her back in the same manner, his tongue experimenting as he began to push her back towards the bed. Miho sat down, then scooted over and dragged Itachi down with her. He tried to gauge her expression, find what she was thinking so he could react properly, but she seemed to avoid his gaze. She focused instead on removing his shirt, which Itachi only reluctantly allowed, for everything about the atmosphere seemed wrong. Was this not supposed to go…smoothly? Why did everything feel so naïve; why was Miho so distant?

She tossed his shirt aside, but instead of kissing him like he'd expected, she instead hugged him tightly, her legs wrapped around his waist, her chest pressed tightly against his, her chin resting gently on his shoulder. She remained there, nestled like a child, and Itachi dared not disturb her.

Seconds passed by, silence so loud that their heartbeats clanged like gongs.

"…You do have a heart," she whispered.

Considering that she had examined it earlier in the day, the comment was strange enough that Itachi bothered to answer.

"…Yes." His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Yes. I do."

"…Do you love me?" she asked very, very quietly.

He had not been expecting the question. What did she mean by _love_? Care? Concern? Or undying passion and atonement?

"…Define," he said.

"Do you…care for me?"

There was no point lying now—he had just saved her from Orochimaru, he had just kissed her and he was now allowing her to hold him—he, Uchiha Itachi, was a pathetic man who undeniably cared for a woman he had meant to kill.

His hands rose from gripping the sheets of the bed to placing themselves awkwardly around her waist. It was enough of an answer.

Miho stirred, breaking away slightly so that they were face to face. The deadened look in her eyes still remained.

"Why?" she said.

Itachi's mouth had gone dry. Miho did not seem perturbed by his silence. She held his gaze levelly as her fingers drew circles on his neck, toyed with a strand of his hair, fingered the thin chain of his pinwheel necklace.

"I was sixteen when I was first raped," she said oddly.

Itachi's grip on her waist unconsciously stiffened. She noticed, for she nearly glared at him, blaming him…but perhaps he'd imagined it because when he looked again, her expression remained as lifeless as ever. She paused briefly, opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again. It was as if she wanted to elaborate, but found it too difficult to do so. When she spoke at last, she had moved to a different topic.

"That was the first time I'd killed someone, too," she continued, eyes averted.

That was less of a problem. Itachi didn't even remember when he'd first killed.

"She was the first…only…person who was kind to me in Orochimaru's lair," said Miho. "Orochimaru said he'd…torture me out again if I didn't kill her. So…I did." Her thin fingers brushed the chain away and trailed his collarbones. "Weird, isn't it? I'm supposed to…I'm not supposed to kill people. I'm a doctor."

Her hand slid down his chest, pausing over his erratically beating heart. A green color surrounded her palm. Itachi had been around her long enough to know that the chakra was not malicious—she was aiming to heal. Warmth seeped from the contact beneath the surface of his skin, surrounding his heart. It constricted briefly, like a gasp, before relaxing as the chakra pressured it lightly, nearly comfortingly.

"So…" she said softly, "don't you find me…in the slightest…repulsive?"

He had been fixated on the healing, but at this inquiry, his eyes darted to her face. She was looking at him expectantly, her expression impassive. The question hovered like a normal inquiry about the weather, his opinion on the latest news.

Itachi shook his head stiffly.

"No. I do not."

"Why?"

"…Because…none of those were your choice."

"Was it your choice to kill your family that night?"

Itachi's eyes flickered. Miho's hand, infused with chakra, was currently placed over his heart. His situation was incredibly precarious—she could honestly kill him any time she wanted to—but Itachi could not bring himself to lie. Something told him that Miho, regardless of his answer, was not trying to kill him. She was trying to gain answers—she had exposed herself precisely because she was, in a way, blaming him. By showing her cards…she held him accountable.

"Yes," he said finally.

Miho's expression did not change. "Why?"

_To test my mettle._ But he had already decided not to lie.

"I cannot tell you."

Miho did not press for the answer. It seemed that his cryptic assertion satisfied her more than a lie—she deduced her own conclusion, and regardless of what she did believe, a relief washed over Itachi. This was the closest he had come to admitting the truth, and half of him was sorely tempted to just confess everything, to convince Miho that he had never wanted her to die, to suffer like she had.

"Itachi."

He barely arched his eyebrow in response. "…What?"

"…You have two options. If you don't care for me, kill me. If you do care, even in the slightest…"

She leaned in and kissed him, not seductively, but as if she was merely giving a hint. _If you do care, take the blame. If you don't find me repulsive, then convince me._

He returned the invitation with affirmation, kissing her back as he slid his hands around her waist to her front, where he found the knot of her bathrobe. He pushed her down, careful to avoid seeming forceful. She clearly appreciated the gentleness; she deepened the kiss, her tongue slipped into his mouth and her hands wrapped themselves in his hair. He undid the knot slowly and pushed the cloth aside, easing his hands from the bones that were her hips and upward. Itachi could feel the stark protrusions from her skin—each rib, each dip in between. He broke away from her gently and looked down at her body. It was terrifyingly skinny, with the lamplight casting eerie shadows on the valleys between her ribs, but the skin was smooth, her body unmarred.

Itachi slid the robe off her shoulders and looked at her intently.

"This is not the body I want to see," he said.

"…What?" she said, bemused.

"This isn't your real body," he said. _If you want me to take account for everything, then show me everything._

Her confusion shifted to terror; she shook her head violently, her body unconsciously retreated from her. Itachi caught her by the wrist and kept her still.

"I've already seen it," he said. "I know already."

"How—"

"You don't need to worry about it," he said smoothly. "Just…show me."

She still refused.

Itachi caught her lips, tried to coax her—his hands massaged her shoulders, tried to relax her. He could feel her body ease under his touch, and finally, the tiniest bit of chakra emanate from her and then disappear. The skin under his fingers grew ridged. Itachi did not look—he already knew what it looked like—but his hands began to roam from one jagged scar to the next. Miho cringed at his touch, her body positioning clearly indicating that she did not enjoy the exposure and the vulnerability. He would not have forced her had it not been necessary, but he needed to commit the scars to memory, to recognize another sin of his past before he committed another. The little voice in his head, to give Miho up, had diminished so that it was barely audible. He could not abandon her at this point.

His lips traced her jaw line and then he buried himself in her neck, tongue dipping into the crevices of her collarbones. Miho's hands gripped his shoulders, cold contact over his shoulder blades. It struck him how, despite his own health issues, he seemed so much more robust than she did. Itachi remained overtly conscious of how he moved, careful not to pin her down with his weight, slow enough to make sure that she would not panic. Yet there was an urgency in Miho's own movements that Itachi had not expected. Her hands patterned down his back and soon they'd reached the waistline of his pants, where she slowly tugged them down. He helped her pull them completely off, slightly unnerved at the awkward pacing, for lust-driven though he was, there was a fleeting yet undeniable lack of confidence in him. He wondered if Miho knew that he had never slept with anyone before, though he was inclined to believe that she would not care.

His lips continued to travel south, and though Miho's body was not enticing by normal standards, Itachi found it stimulating nevertheless. He found his mind wandering, guiding him in actions that he would've never thought were possible. He caressed her breast briefly before he took it in his mouth, licking at the nub. It hardened at one brush of his tongue, and under him, Miho shivered spasmodically and her grip on his shoulders became a chokehold; Itachi held her tightly, his hands stroking her back until Miho finally relaxed, and soon her breaths grew more audible, nearing moans of quiet pleasure. Relieved and now more aroused at her verbal encouragements, Itachi brought one hand around her and touched her thigh, stroking the skin from her hip to her knee and then back. Her skin prickled into gooseflesh under his fingertips, but she seemed to enjoy it. She shifted under him, placing her knees on either side of his waist and then pressing her lips to his neck as slowly, she began to move underneath him in a rhythmic manner that made Itachi stiffen in more than one way.

As if to encourage him more, her tongue began to make its own way around his neck, aided by slight nips from her teeth. Itachi bit back a groan when she arrived at a space behind his ear that perhaps he found rather stimulating; realizing that he reacted to it, Miho attacked it more viciously. Itachi groaned and pushed her down against the pillows—he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply. His tongue grazed the edges of her mouth before entering, his teeth caught her lower lip and he sucked tightly. Miho made a quiet noise, almost a whimper, and Itachi nearly found it disturbing that it turned him on more—after one final nip, he broke away and rested his forehead against hers.

"Is…this," he breathed, "is this okay?"

Her gaze met his, and for the first time that night, her gray eyes were clear. She nodded wearily.

"Y-yeah," she sighed.

There were so many things about this situation that were incredibly…wrong and off. It was as if they were a world-weary couple, not the inexperienced youth they truly were. As aroused though he was, Itachi could not help but feel as if the prospect of sex was nothing more than a chore—but he was not supposed to enjoy it—this was his form of taking the blame, of accepting that everything that had ever happened to Miho was his fault and his alone.

He kissed her gently as his hands slid down her sides to her hips. He hooked his fingers around her underwear and pulled it off of her. Miho did the same, reaching for his boxers and much more swiftly pulling them off—she returned the kiss urgently, as if any longer of a preamble would unnerve her and force her to stop. Itachi pressed her tightly against the mattress and kissed her neck, bidding her to relax her body; her legs spread to prop themselves on either side of his waist, and there was no point over-thinking it now. A near-animalistic desire overcame him. He entered her, moving slowly inside her heat; she whimpered, and, unsure if the sound was out of pain or pleasure, he had to will himself to stop. Her hold around his neck had tightened, and he dared not move until her breathing had stabilized slightly, the chokehold had loosened, and she whispered in his ear,

"Go on."

He amazed himself when it came to self-control, but at the sound of her affirmation, he pushed forward in her in one swift motion. Miho gasped audibly and her fingers clenched in his hair.

"Are…" he panted—why did this take so much effort?—"Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah," she whispered. "Just…didn't expect…you to be so…"

She made a noise, almost like a laugh, before she kissed his cheek lightly and brought her hands down to his shoulders.

"I'm okay," she said. "Go on."

He obeyed, moving inside her slowly at first, and she started respond, her muscles relaxing, her body moving with his. They reached a unified rhythm, and finally he understood just how pleasant—more than pleasant, how outrageously arousing—sex was. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly was so arousing about it—the touch of her now-hot skin, the feeling of her ragged breaths on his neck, but it was the sounds—the sounds she made that encouraged him, that emboldened him as he touched her everywhere on her body, kissed her skin and made her groan in pleasure. Beads of sweat coalesced on the interface of their skin—his thrusts grew deeper as he felt himself clench and pulse—Miho was holding onto him tightly—and with one final push, he released, vaguely aware that he was still inside of her and that, perhaps, he had not planned very well for it.

He collapsed onto her body, exhausted and surprised that his heart had not given him trouble. He lied on her, breathing heavily, unaware that he was crushing her until she pushed lightly against his chest.

"Off," she said tiredly.

Itachi rolled away, still panting, but finally gaining the levelheadedness to look at her. She was also perspiring, but she looked much less strained than he was. It occurred to him that there had been no physical indication of her pleasure.

"Don't worry about it," she said. Her voice was startlingly clear. "I've never released—you really can't expect me to."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. How inconsiderate of him.

"…I wasn't thinking about it," he said childishly.

She scoffed. "All men do.

Itachi brought a hand up to her cheek, brushing it lightly.

"Can you sleep now?" he asked.

"…I just had sex with the man who killed my father," she said wryly. "I have a lot to think about."

The response threw him off guard. Miho did not look as dead as she had been when he'd first brought her back, but at the mention of her father, a shadow passed over her face.

"Itachi."

He looked at her reluctantly, the post-sex peace quickly dissipating into an annoyance with the direction of the conversation. No, he did not want to talk about the moral complications of sleeping with a woman whose father he had killed. Not to mention that had she not fallen in to the hands of some sick pedophile, said woman would be dead because he would have killed her, too.

Why were they so fucked up?

"Itachi."

"What?" he said, almost snappishly.

"If you didn't want to kill me that night, why did you?"

Itachi did not answer. He settled for impassiveness. Miho's lips thinned, but right when it looked like she was about to begin arguing, she let out a sigh and rolled onto her back.

"How did you know about my body?" she said.

He was grateful for the change.

"That one night," he answered monotonously.

She knew which one he was talking about. She always knew.

"…I see," she said quietly. She shifted slightly and drew the covers over her body as she turned away from him. He stared at her back, where the ridges there suddenly faded into smooth skin.

"…Why do you do that?" he asked.

"What, you don't think my body's disgusting?"

"…I am not that shallow, Chiaki Miho. You do not need to put up pretenses around me."

She just drew the covers around her tighter.

"Itachi."

"What?"

"…Why me? Why then…and why now?"

He curled his arm around her waist, holding her comfortably.

"…Because…then and now…I need not put pretenses up around you."

She didn't respond for a long time. He thought she had fallen asleep when finally, she spoke.

"It was always you."

Her fingers locked with his.

"Then. Now. Even when I was in Orochimaru's hellhole. It was always you." She let out a breath. "I'm pathetic. Even after what you did…I…"

Her voice trailed off, and he made no effort to pick up the conversation. Words were useless past a certain point.

They remained still. Fingers loosely interlocked. Silence reigned.

And they remained there, holding hands.

Like children.

* * *

**_free talk_:**

_...i'm really sorry. truly, truly sorry for the wait. _

_i will not belabor my terrible updating ability, but thank you for being patient with me. thank you also for everyone who reviewed! :)_

_this was clearly the first time i've written a chapter like this. i hope it was okay. it was not meant to be "sexy" by any means, haha._

_anyway, i haven't been on ff in ages, so i haven't seen the image manager before. but anyone with cover images for this story would be greatly welcome! it seems like a cool idea. too bad i can't draw._

_so i will try much harder to make the next update sooner than this. i promise you will at least not have to wait two months..._

_hope you all have been well! see you soon.  
xoxo,  
__m.n_


	20. There is No Safety from Weakness

**Chapter 20: There is No Safety From Weakness**

Itachi thought he was dreaming when he woke up the next morning.

His arm draped over Miho's waist. Her breathing, so faint, ghosted over the skin of his neck. His heart gave him no problems. He felt healthy, even. Strong.

This was the life that he'd wanted for so long. The feeling of waking up in the morning, unburdened both mentally and physically. A woman who—dared he think it?—loved him unconditionally sleeping in his arms.

The golden glow of morning trailed into their room, and for once, the birds of Kirigakure had roused themselves from their dewy nests to grace the world with their song.

Itachi glanced down at Miho. She was fast asleep.

With one swift motion, one that did not disturb Miho, Itachi drew down the bed drapes, isolating the two of them in darkness.

He did not want to wake up just yet.

* * *

She remembered Itachi to be a fairly light sleeper—or at least, she'd always assumed he was. But her memory never proved that to be true—whenever he slept around her, he always slept like the dead.

She woke up with an overwhelming desire to shower, a desire that always possessed her after sex. It took her a few seconds to remind herself that, for once, the night before had been consensual. She could not deny that she'd always expected this to happen, at some point or another. Itachi was probably the only person she would've given her virginity to willingly. Him, or Kakashi. But that was an absurd afterthought.

Miho moved silently out of Itachi's hold and slipped out of the bed, making her way for the bathroom that now looked surprisingly friendly despite that she had contemplated killing herself in it the night before. In retrospect, though, she would not have. She had honestly just been "trying something." Miho had long accepted that she had no willpower to kill herself…especially when Itachi, the sole reason for her living, was in the next room.

She set up a series of sound-cancelling jutsu around the door. Itachi was still sleeping soundly, and something told her that Itachi did not get restful sleep commonly. She then drew the bath, took the hotel's nice bottles of ginger body wash and shampoo, and climbed in. The heat seeped into her muscles and she relaxed immediately. It was late morning, but she felt no pressure to hurry. She did not know Akatsuki's plans, nor was she inclined to care. Now that she and Itachi were…what _were_ they? Happy? Made up? Not exactly…but at the least, she was not fueled by an all-consuming desire to kill him.

Thoughts of the previous night came back to her, and Miho could barely contain a weary shudder at the thought of her close encounter with Orochimaru. Yet even that seemed like a distant memory. Orochimaru and his pasty face and snake-like eyes…Miho exhaled, exhausted. She could not remain this frightened of him for the rest of her life. She had Itachi now. And pathetic though the thought was…she had his protection. Orochimaru was nothing, utterly nothing, compared to Uchiha Itachi. And Itachi would not give her up willingly. She knew that much.

Yet she was not sure what she wanted from him. Idealistically…it would be comfort. Peace. A life away from everything and everyone. She remembered the conversation they'd had when there were children—_let's be farmers. I'll grow potatoes. You…do whatever._

But the man was part of Akatsuki, was still an S-Class criminal. A life as a farmer? She was kidding herself. Itachi was fated to an extraordinary life, no matter how sad or twisted it was. Besides…in the end, he had still killed her father. Miho let out a long sigh. What was she doing? Why was she…happy—happy that she and Itachi had consummated a relationship that should have ended when they were children? Hiroki's blood was undeniably on Itachi's hands.

_But you don't know why Itachi killed his family_, her conscience reminded her. _You don't know what drove him to kill you. You have seen nothing but remorse and mercy from him since you fell into Akatsuki's hands. Don't you think…something's very wrong? That he is hiding something?_

Of course he was hiding something—Miho had known that from before the massacre. But regardless of what he was hiding, no matter what his reasons…Miho closed her eyes. She could still see Hiroki's helpless face, his dying wish screamed at her—_RUN_—she could not forget that. And if she could not forget, could she possibly forgive?

"Miho?" she heard Itachi's voice say.

"I'm here," she called.

"Miho?" he said again, this time more urgently.

Shit—she'd forgotten the sound-cancellation. She climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body, trying to keep the shampoo suds from trailing into her eye as she made her way to the door.

"Itachi—Itachi, I'm here—"

The door slid open on its own and Itachi, momentarily panicked, nearly ran into her as he entered.

"I'm here!" she said, wincing as she tried to brush the soap away from her eyebrow. "I'm here—I put up sound-cancellers so I wouldn't bother you."

"Don't," he said, nearly angry, "do that. You know I can't sense you—if I can't hear or see you, then I don't know if you're here—I thought you'd left—"

She had to wonder why Itachi would panic. Why he wanted her to stay. Was she allowed to be happy about this as well?

"I wouldn't leave," she said. "…I've had plenty of chances to run away. You know I won't."

Itachi blinked, as if finally understanding. He inclined his head slightly, resigned. "You're right. I don't know why…I sleep abnormally deeply when I'm with you. I didn't hear you wake up and when I saw that the room was empty…I naturally assumed that you had left, as you honestly should have by now."

"…I won't," she said. "You don't have to worry about that anymore."

He nodded slowly, studying her closely. Miho frowned at the intensity of his stare.

"Now if you'll excuse me…I have shampoo running down my eyes."

She turned around and let her towel drop to the floor before she climbed back into the bath. Conscious that Itachi was watching her, Miho turned to him, somewhat exasperated.

"Don't just stand there and watch," she said. "Go away."

"I'd rather not," he muttered, stepping forward and discarding his robe in one swift motion. Despite Miho's protests, he joined her in the bath and cupped her chin tightly as he pulled her forward in a kiss.

So Itachi could be forward.

She had to admit that she liked it. She didn't resist and instead drew him closer, her arms garlanding his neck.

She could forgive. When it was Itachi…she could always forgive.

* * *

_I wonder…is it wrong to be happy?_

* * *

"Not the smoothest mission report you've had, Itachi-san," said Kisame when the two of them finally returned to Kusagakure, where Kisame, Sasori, and Deidara remained. The shark-like man glanced over to Miho as he spoke. "I thought I told you to ditch her if the mission called for it."

"Which it did not," said Itachi monotonously. "Houzuki Rai will report to us, as the mission required."

"I thought I told you to let the man sleep with her and be done with it."

"And I told you that went against my foundational morals."

"We are a criminal organization, Itachi-san. Our foundational morals are to have none."

"The mission is completed," said Itachi tetchily. "That's enough."

"Ah, right…then I suppose it doesn't matter if we just…" He swung Samehada up so that it dangled right beside Miho's neck, "lop off her head, does it?"

"Unfortunately," said Miho, unfazed, "it does matter. I believe I can cure Itachi's heart problem."

The two of them had settled on this to be their strongest card to keep her alive. Kisame knew and was concerned about Itachi's health, and most likely he had alerted the Leader of it as well. Akatsuki would not want to lose Itachi—he was too good.

Kisame bought it—hook, line, and sinker. "…What?"

"If you knew even the slightest bit of medical jutsu, you'd be able to tell from the moment we walked in that his heart is in the best condition it's been for years. Had he been traveling alone, he could've skipped all the way back from Kirigakure within three days," said Miho dryly.

"But you guys took a week."

"And that would be my fault," she said, waving her hand. "Unfortunately, I have my own health problems."

Kisame looked uncertainly between the two of them. Where this man's intuition came from was beyond Miho, yet from the brief interchange, he seemed to have picked up on something different. "Something happen?"

Itachi didn't even blink as he responded. "No."

He might as well not have responded, for Kisame grinned widely. "You guys did it, didn't you?"

"Kisame-san, please enlighten me—how exactly does your mind function in a situation where you cannot make a sexual innuendo?"

"That never happens and besides—hey, Deidara! Deidara! You're never going to believe it—"

Kisame left the room, apparently on a quest to track down Deidara and tell him the oh-so-exciting news that Itachi was no longer a virgin.

Itachi looked at Miho, slightly annoyed but relieved all the same.

"I suppose this means that you are safe for the time being," he said.

"Mm. And tell me—is a group of S-Class criminals allowed to be this happy-go-lucky?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. We are prepared to rip each other apart at a moment's notice."

But Miho was not listening.

It was about time she was allowed to be safe. And happy.

* * *

_And again, his disease has come in my favor. _

_Though I shouldn't be thinking that. I am not entirely sure if I can heal it completely, but we both know that I am the most competent medic for this job._

_Is it odd?_

_In the midst of a group of S-class criminals, I am the most at peace that I have ever been. Or maybe the peace doesn't stem from the actual organization as it does from within myself. Something in me has…calmed down. The insistent ache in my heart, the one that drove me for so long…it has disappeared. Supplanted by a desire, an appreciation for the fact that for the first time in more than seven years…I exist in a more wholesome way than before._

* * *

She became Akatsuki's permanent "prisoner" and temporary medic. She had rules.

_You will always be accompanied by an Akatsuki member._

_You will follow all orders—be they to kill or to heal—without question._

_You will not run from Akatsuki._

_You will not betray Akatsuki._

_Any indication of breaking the aforementioned rules is punishable by death or worse._

Miho had no inclination to find out exactly what "death or worse" entailed. She had no motivation to run, no motivation to betray Akatsuki. She, indeed, had nowhere else to go after all. In a way, she had been a rogue ninja from the moment Orochimaru had found her; possessed with the intense desire to find and kill Itachi, she had long renounced her allegiance to Konoha.

In the future, when she looked back on the next two years, she would without hesitation call them the happiest years of her life. It was initially a hassle being ushered around by a set of bodyguards—she didn't mind Deidara and Sasori, and obviously preferred being with Itachi and Kisame, but Hidan and Kakuzu were frustrating and psychotic. Hidan had limitless blood thirst and was always threatening to kill her, while Kakuzu was infatuated with money and suggested more than once that they sell her to a brothel for a good price. Surprisingly, it was not Itachi but Kisame and Deidara who stepped in to stop the harassment, though in manners that did not compliment her very much.

"Oi," said Deidara distastefully. "You won't get much out of a brothel. Do you _see_ her? Not very marketable."

"And if you kill her, Leader's going to be angry," added Kisame. "Her blood is special. Apparently, you can sell it on the black market for over ten thousand ryou per ounce."

"Don't tell _him_ that," hissed Miho, jerking a finger over at Kakuzu, whose eyes began to glitter at the prospect of bleeding Miho dry.

"Never mind," sighed Kisame. "Forget it, you're just going to have to stay with us or Deidara at all times—these psychos are going to kill you at the next chance they have."

Eventually, though, Miho had apparently gained enough degree of trust among certain Akatsuki members that she was allowed to live alone in Kusagakure as a practicing doctor and Akatsuki correspondent. There were, of course, still regulations. Cameras were installed into her apartment and clinic and she was required to exert a detectable level of chakra occasionally; if it disappeared for an extended period of time, mechanical chakra sensors would alert Akatsuki members and they would be deployed immediately to see if she had been killed—and if she had not, they would kill her themselves for forgetting the rules.

But again, she had no inclination to disobey. She truthfully did not care about what exactly Akatsuki's plans were for world dominion. She was given the most autonomy she'd had since that brief time in Konoha over a year ago. She was not going to give it up, especially not when Itachi had biweekly medical appointments with her. These appointments ensured that she would always see him in between his missions, making every other weekend an event to look forward to. Itachi was usually accompanied by Kisame, whom Miho always received with the barest reservations, but Kisame was better than a good majority of the rest of Akatsuki and thus Miho could bear with him.

Other times, Itachi would arrive alone. Though Miho did not play the part of the eternally-longing-for-her-husband wife—yes, they were still married, and officially at that—she could not help but appreciate these solitary visits tremendously. These visits were the times where she felt the closest she could to being normal—Itachi was not one of the most wanted shinobi on the face of the planet, and she was, well, not a prisoner. They were instead a doctor and her rarely-around patient of a husband.

These visits, however, were infrequent, if not rare. And in reverse of Itachi's solitary visits, sometimes Itachi's missions would drag on for longer than expected and her only visitor would be Kisame.

"Surprise," said Kisame wryly when he showed up at the door alone one evening in the dead of winter. The New Year was fast approaching, but the blizzards around had successfully squashed any chances of outdoor New Year festivities. Kisame shrugged off some snow on the doormat as he surveyed her through squinting eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" asked Miho dryly, raising her lantern so that she could see his face better. "You can't _surprise_ me. I can sense you from literally twenty miles away."

"Yeah, yeah. Still. Disappointed?"

"Slightly," she admitted, allowing Kisame to enter her home.

He looked around as he brushed off the remaining snow on his jacket. Miho gestured for him to take off the robe and hand it over.

"Expecting something?" she asked, taking the robe and hanging it over the fire.

"Candles, wine, dinner. Something romantic."

"I told you," she said in the same condescending tone that Itachi so often used with his partner, "I can sense you from twenty miles away. Even if I had laid such things out—not that it would ever happen—I would have plenty of time to clean it all up."

"What, you wouldn't want to have a romantic dinner with me?"

"Please, how could I have a romantic dinner with someone who is _literally_ a shark and eats raw fish—scales and all?"

"Point taken." Kisame sat down at the kitchen table as Miho, out of pure etiquette, poured him a small cup of sake. "Thanks."

"…Itachi hasn't shown up in nearly two months now," said Miho, deciding it was unnecessary to beat around the bush with additional niceties. "Is something wrong?"

"…Yeah," said Kisame. "That's what I came here to talk to you about."

She sometimes surprised herself with how well she could compose herself, no matter how stunned she was with Kisame's response. Indeed, she had not entirely expected him to give the affirmative.

"What happened?" she asked calmly.

"Leader sent Itachi-san on a covert mission to the north, to a remote village in the mountains. There have been rumors that a Jinchuuriki has been living alone there."

Miho's eyes narrowed. "He went to find a host? Alone?"

"You underestimate Itachi-san."

"No, I don't," she said with burning coolness. "I know he is capable of fighting a Jinchuuriki alone, but the weather is against him. I gave both you and him explicit instructions—this winter is the coldest it has been in over two decades. He needs to steer clear of the cold."

"We cannot stop all activities just because it's colder than normal, Miho-san."

"But his heart _will_ stop because it is," she said angrily. "Why did you let him go? Why didn't you do the solo mission yourself?"

"Because it was a _covert_ mission," said Kisame patiently. "You know how I can't do covert. Likewise, I tend to…saw my prey up a little. Itachi-san's genjutsu ability usually leads to a very clean mission report."

Miho did not sulk on the fact that Itachi had deliberately ignored her orders. "So then you are here just to give me this update? How kind."

"No, I'm here to let you know that he's late and he would've run out of medicine by now."

Miho's eyes widened. "No. I always give him at least a four-month supply, just in case."

Kisame winced visibly.

"What happened?" Miho all but snarled.

"…You know blizzards…" said Kisame uneasily. "We were on a mountain…lots of wind…"

"And?"

"…About half of the supply was blown off the mountain," said Kisame bluntly.

"…So you're telling me that Itachi is lost in some godforsaken mountain, alone, possibly in the company of a Jinchuuriki, and knowing him, has most likely not taken his medications for the last week," she said icily. "Do tell me what you're doing here, Kisame-san, instead of finding him."

"I'm on my way," said Kisame sourly. "I came for medication."

"I'll go find him," said Miho coolly. "It would make more sense if I find him and treat him on site—"

"No," said Kisame. "There's additional news. Several villages apparently are sending scouts to Kusagakure—Akatsuki activity has been detected here."

"Meaning with me."

"Essentially, yes."

"All the more reason for me to leave," she said

"No, we need you here to gather information. Which village is here to scout us—and how much information they have. Leader wants you to remain as a normal doctor—apparently, the villagers like you and don't suspect much."

"I want to go find Itachi," said Miho.

"And I told you—I'll take care of it."

"I'm sure you have other correspondents here," she insisted. "Itachi will need medical treatment immediately and—"

She stopped talking. Samehada hovered centimeters away from her nose and Kisame, whose good-natured humor had disappeared, now looked at her appraisingly and with the barest amount of threat.

"I can't imagine you were a very competent shinobi," he remarked. "Not very good at following orders."

"I can say the same for you," she retorted. "Taking Itachi to the mountains when I explicitly told you to avoid the cold—"

"There's a crucial difference. You're a prisoner. You don't have the authority to order me around." Kisame waved Samehada casually—it grazed her cheek, drawing blood and chakra. Miho inched backward, breathing harshly—just the slightest touch from Samehada absorbed an incredible amount of chakra.

"Fine," she said reluctantly.

"Good answer," said Kisame, finally lowering his weapon. "Now hand over whatever I need to shove down Itachi-san's throat."

Miho stood up, healing the scratch on her cheek as she did so, and opened one of the kitchen cabinets. She had compressed a remedial concoction of herbs and drugs together into thin, colored pills. Handing two separate bottles over to Kisame, she reminded him,

"Give him three of the white pills immediately—they're symptom suppressors and energy boosters. After he's eaten—and make sure he eats—give him two of the pink ones. Repeat this every day until you get back to me. And please bring him back immediately."

"Relax," said Kisame. "Itachi-san doesn't die easily."

Miho pursed her lips but said nothing. She was not worried about Itachi dying _now_—she was worried about him dying in the long run. She was still not exactly sure how to cure Itachi's disease, given the degree to which his heart had degenerated, and the pills she made were only temporary solutions. Her resources were limited; she could not treat him completely unless she managed to access actual medical supplies. The idea of making a trip to Konoha had recently burgeoned in the back of her mind, but she pushed it aside in light of the more urgent news.

"All right then," she said. "I'd feel better if you left now. Do you need supplies or anything?"

"Got fish?"

"Always on stock for you," said Miho sarcastically. "No, I don't. The lakes have frozen—it's hard to get seafood."

"Fine," grumbled Kisame. "I'm off then."

Miho nodded. "Safe travels."

Kisame did not waste additional words on farewells. In a blast of icy wind and the entrance of liberal amounts of snow on her already-soaked welcome mat, Kisame disappeared into the blizzard. Miho had to admire the amount of chakra the man had. Chakra was like fat. Kisame would be incredibly well insulated, even in a snowstorm.

There was a quiet beeping from the corner of the kitchen, and a monotonous voice resonated in the room.

"Chiaki Miho. Report status and exert chakra level."

"Here," she answered mechanically, raising her chakra. "Status is clear."

There was another series of beeps, and finally, the last long affirmative one.

"Status recorded. Day two hundred of captivity."

* * *

_Day two hundred already._

_I wonder if this is what the rest of my life is going to be—constant contact with a shark-man who likes to swing his saw of a sword in front of my face, reporting to a robotic sensor that I swear gets sinister when I nearly forget to raise my chakra levels. I don't know why I have to go through such mundane routines. Surely Akatsuki is smart enough to know that if I wanted to run, I could. I could honestly run to the ends of the earth and no one could catch me._

_Or perhaps they enforce such basic routines simply because they know I will not run, and these processes are just pretense. They know that as long as Itachi is here, I am never going to leave. _

_The greatest weakness of a shinobi is to have a weakness at all. One that is tangible, one that the enemy can exploit. _

_The sad thing is is that my enemy couldn't care less if I had a weakness. I suppose that is what it means when I am but one kunoichi in the hands of an organization full of people who could crush me within a matter of seconds. These shinobi are the best of the best, perhaps better than the Kages, precisely because they have no weaknesses. No people they care for. No homes to return to. _

_I sometimes wonder if he is the same as his colleagues, for lack of a better word. _

_I feel like imagining that I am his weakness is arrogant and above anything else, foolish. Call it intuition, but I know I am not the most important thing in his life. It upsets me. It's…disheartening. Because I have no idea what his weakness really is._

* * *

Two nights after Kisame had left to go find Itachi, Miho was woken up in the dead of the night by the sound of coughing and the grating sound of a chair being pulled across the floor. Alarmed, she reached instinctively under her pillow for a kunai, but left it untouched once the chakra signature registered.

She crawled as quickly out of bed as she could, grabbed two insulated blankets from the closet, and bolted into the kitchen. The lights were off—the electricity had been cut due to the blizzard. Miho stumbled in, nearly tripping over a chair, but she grappled in midair and coincidentally found his shoulder in the dark.

"Itachi," she whispered.

He opened his eyes, and even in the dark, the crimson Sharingan seemed to glow less brightly than normal. She touched his face gently; it was icy.

"Put this on," she said, tossing a blanket over his shoulders. "I need to light up the place. Use your remaining chakra and begin defrosting yourself—dry your clothes."

"…Miho," he said hoarsely.

"Yes," she said as she hurriedly grasped in the dark for candles, "it's me. Itachi, you need to listen to me—focus on drying—"

"You," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "need to be more careful—"

"Itachi," snapped Miho, unable to reign in her anger, "do _not_ lecture me right now—dry yourself before I shove you in the fire."

He did not respond. The small dips in his remaining chakra indicated that he was finally listening to her. Miho lit several candles and then headed over to the fireplace, which she lit with a small Katon. At last, she turned to Itachi, whose gaunt and exhausted face was finally visible in the flickering candlelight. She did not dwell on the clearly deplorable state of his physique.

"Here," she said curtly, easing him up from the chair and guiding him to the fireplace. "It's fine, conserve the rest of your chakra—I'll take over."

He did not resist as she tugged his cloak off his shoulders and sat him down on the sofa. She then sat on his knees and leaned him back. With expert control, she dried his underlying mesh shirt while simultaneously warming his skin. She rapidly ran her hands over his torso, bringing his body temperature up enough so that his shivering subsided slightly and he was no longer freezing to touch.

"I'm going to start warming you from inside now," she said. "It's going to feel invasive but you should know that the chakra is friendly. Relax as much as you can."

Without waiting for a response, she increased the chakra in her hands and brought it to his torso, letting her healthy chakra spread throughout his chest by clearing the stilted chakra pathways around his lungs. Contrary to what she had expected, though, his breathing grew shallower, causing Miho to look up in alarm.

"Itachi—"

He was seized by a violent coughing fit on a level that she had not seen before—she stopped the treatment immediately and frantically eased her hand down his back. He brought his hand up to his mouth and coughed into it, and after one particularly harsh cough, the fit subsided at last. He withdrew his hand, purposefully curling it as he brought it down, but Miho grabbed his wrist.

"Open it," she ordered.

"It's," he said haggardly, "nothing."

She pressed on his wrist's pressure point ruthlessly; he winced and his hand unfolded to reveal a small clump of coagulated blood.

"…How long has this been happening?" she asked as calmly as she could.

Itachi could tell that she was angry.

"Several weeks," he said, his voice raspy.

"How could this have been happening for several weeks?" she said, trying as best as she could to keep the panic out of her voice. "I gave you enough medication and if you'd taken the necessary precautions, this wouldn't have…"

She stopped talking, knowing very well why Itachi was in such a state. She had not done anything wrong—she had found the perfect combination of drugs and herbs to suppress his symptoms and even boost his immune system. She had instructed him multiple times on precisely what to do, but for certain patients, the worst enemy was not the disease but the patient himself. Itachi was exactly this kind of patient.

Miho said nothing and resumed her original treatment, toning down the level of chakra in her hands so the input would not disturb his clearly damaged lungs and induce another coughing fit.

"Miho," he said wearily.

"Shut up," she said in a steely tone.

"…Don't be angry."

She didn't reply, continuing in silence until his chest was finally warm to the touch. His breathing had eased; he was now resting his head on the back of his chair, clearly more comfortable than before. Miho let out a breath and brought her right palm over his heart, bracing herself for the damage, but he grabbed her wrist.

"It's enough for tonight," he said.

"It's that bad?" she said testily.

"No. You've exerted much chakra and you look exhausted. We can continue treatment tomorrow."

"Uchiha," she spat, "if you've been paying attention, you should know that it's been well over a year since I was released from Orochimaru's hellhole. I'm fully recovered. Better, even. You don't need to worry about me."

A faint smirk graced his lips. "…True. Your chakra control has become quite marvelous. Very well. Continue."

She could not help but be flattered at his compliment, though she didn't let it show. Instead, she brought her hand over his heart and closed her eyes, allowing the chakra flow to inundate her senses. She could see a great, intricate pattern of green, much too complex for it to be healthy. She worked dexterously but carefully, easing out the chakra build-up and returning the flow to normalcy. It was arduous, painstaking work. Though the last time she had seen Itachi, she'd barely had to clear out anything, this was the worst state that she'd seen his heart in yet—and it had only been a little over two months.

It took well over two hours for her to clear up everything. She opened her eyes at last, fatigued, but was pleased to see that Itachi had fallen asleep during the treatment, which meant that he was feeling much better. She was much too tired to move him to the bedroom, but was also not inclined to part from him. She curled up against his chest and brought the two blankets over the both of them. He murmured incoherently in her ear and his arms shuffled unconsciously to encage her waist.

Relieved and content, she fell asleep.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, she knew it was late already. The blizzard had subsided and a rare ray of sunshine peeled its way through the kitchen and living room windows. The remnant coals in the fireplace had become cold ashes; the house was freezing.

Though she was still tired, she could not allow Itachi to be cold. Carefully, she disentangled her body from his arms and wrapped both blankets tightly around his shoulders; he did not stir, his faint breathing a comforting sign that he was both alive and deeply asleep. Miho pattered quietly back to the bedroom and changed swiftly into multiple layers of clothing—the coal pile was in a shed outside, and Miho truthfully hated snow with a passion.

Nonetheless, she exited the apartment and quickly ran over to the shed, where she filled up a bag with coal. She turned back to return when a peculiar chakra signature entered her range, and she froze.

It was a familiar one, though if she could not identify it immediately, that meant she did not know the person well enough. Miho paused, closing her eyes as she concentrated, trying her best to blot out the sensation of her fingers growing numb. Definitely a shinobi…judging from the relatively smaller reserves but easy flow that indicated excellent chakra control…it was a kunoichi. Miho frowned. What females did she know? She probed deeper. The pathways to her hands were the clearest, down to the fingertips—this was not common in any other than medics. This puzzled Miho even more—she did not know any other medics.

Another two chakra signatures, two that again were vaguely familiar but not recognizable, joined the kunoichi. Both of these were male, but Miho could tell that the kunoichi was by far the strongest of the three. Interesting.

Miho made her way back into the apartment, musing. The newcomers must be the ones that Kisame had warned her of. And judging from the color she was getting of their chakra, they were from Konoha. She had to be impressed with the speed at which they had arrived, especially with the recent weather. As she scooped the ash out of the fireplace and disposed it, she debated whether or not she was supposed to tell Itachi. She did not want him to be stressed, especially when he had just returned, but…

She lit the fire, and as she did, something touched her shoulder lightly. Miho turned around to find Itachi, tired but awake at long last, studying her closely.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, straightening up and bringing a hand to his forehead. No fever.

"Better," he said, his voice still hoarse. "Much better."

"You need to tell Kisame somehow that you're back," she said. "He left two days ago to find you."

"…Shit…" exhaled Itachi. "Very well."

"I'll go ahead and make breakfast," she said curtly. "While you eat, I'll warm the bath. You look like you'd enjoy it."

"Miho…don't be angry."

She didn't reply and tried to make her way past him, but he caught her wrist and forced her back.

"Forgive me," he said.

"I don't care," she said. "I've done what I could—it's up to you whether or not you really want to help yourself, Itachi. I can't stand patients who won't listen to instructions—after a while, I stop caring entirely—"

"No, you won't," he said lightly. "Not with me."

Miho grimaced. She hated how Itachi knew this fact as well.

He brushed her wrist, as if trying to console her.

"Forgive me," he said again. "I've caused you trouble."

Ever since the mission in Kirigakure, Miho couldn't help but notice the changes in Itachi's personality as it gradually progressed from the cruel murderer to the child of fourteen. Though he rarely smiled and hardly flirted like he did back then, he was much more…sincere than before. That was to say, he was still the cold-hearted, stoic criminal in front of Akatsuki, but when it was just the two of them, she could tell that he was falling back into his old patterns of chiding her, nearly teasing her, calling her out when she was trying to hide something.

She took his apology with a nod and left to the kitchen. He made a movement to follow her.

"Stop," she said sternly. "Stay there and keep warm."

"…Very well," he said reluctantly.

"…What happened?" asked Miho. "With the mission?"

"…It was merely a combination of several factors that eventually forced me to retreat and come here," he said. "Namely…the cold. And the Jinchuuriki was much more adept at hiding in the mountains than I was at navigating through them."

"I don't understand why you just won't let me go with you on these covert ones," said Miho. "It would be much—"

"No."

She turned away from the stove, where she was frying two eggs, to look at him.

"You know it would be easier."

"I have no intention of allowing you to actually join Akatsuki's expeditions," he said coolly.

"You know I do not care about what Akatsuki is doing."

"All the more reason for you not to help," he said. "You are a prisoner. Expect nothing more."

"I see. I suppose that helps out especially when three Konoha shinobi are coming our way as we speak?"

Itachi was by her side in an instant.

"Where?" he said, struggling to remove the blankets that she had successfully wrapped around him.

"Relax," said Miho, tucking them more securely around his shoulders. "Go back and sit. We have plenty of time. They're still several miles away and are traveling at walking speed. Clearly, they're in no great hurry. Likewise, neither are we."

"Do you recognize them?" said Itachi.

"No. They're familiar, but I think it's because I just am used to their signatures from my time in Konoha. One is interesting—a kunoichi. She's a medic, but I don't recall meeting a female medic in Konoha."

"But she's familiar?"

"Yes. The most."

"Who did you meet?"

"No one that stuck with me," she answered. "It'll be fine. Kisame told me beforehand; we're supposed to stay put. You will hide. And you should probably tell Kisame that you're safe."

"…We could watch him struggle a bit," said Itachi seriously.

Miho arched an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I do not appreciate being left alone in the middle of a blizzard after my partner knocks my medication off the mountain due to his mere incompetence," said Itachi, deadpan. "He can struggle for a bit longer."

Miho gave a small smile and did not protest. Her sentiments exactly.

The Konoha platoon arrived late that afternoon. Miho had plenty of time to straighten out everything in both the apartment and the clinic. She had instructed Itachi to rest in the bedroom with a thermos of tea, another thermos of broth, and a handful of articles to read about the qualities of being a good patient. Itachi looked slightly amused by this, but before he had a chance to show off and insist that he could finish all the articles within minutes, Miho locked him in the room and left.

"Yuuko-san!"

Miho looked up at her patient's son—she was treating a young mother with internal bleeding after she gave birth to her daughter several weeks ago. The son, a young boy of seven, bounded up to her and tugged her sleeve.

"Yuuko-san," he said excitedly. "There's something cool I want you to see!"

"Ren," chastised the mother. "Yuuko-san is busy—don't bother her."

"But it's a girl with _pink_ hair!"

Miho straightened up instantly. She knew the platoon was nearby, but had been meaning to observe their actions only through sensing. But there was only one girl she knew—one girl in the world, actually—who had pink hair.

"Ren," she said gently, "listen to Nee-san. Your mother is going to be fine as long as she takes these pills once every day for the next week—she can't do any strenuous activity, okay? Other than that, Tama-san, you should be fine."

"Thank you, Yuuko-san," said the mother, getting up from the seat. "Your healing always leaves me feeling well-rested."

"I'm glad," said Miho. "I've stopped the bleeding, but remember that you're still vulnerable. Be careful."

"I will. Come, Ren."

"A girl with pink hair!" shouted Ren as he opened the door, welcoming a blast of icy wind just as the platoon passed by.

Haruno Sakura looked to her right, surprised with Ren's outburst. Miho looked out fearlessly. Sakura could not possibly recognize her, for the identity of Yuuko was disguised, the same disguise Miho had used when she had been hiding in Konoha after Orochimaru's invasion.

Sakura blushed, waving slightly at Ren.

"Hey, Onee-san!" said Ren excitedly. "Can I touch your hair?"

"Ren," scolded Tama. "That's rude—apologize!"

"Oh, no, it's fine," smiled Sakura. "Um…please be sure to take care of yourself."

"Thank you, I will. Have a good day."

Sakura waved in farewell before looking hesitantly at Miho, who smiled beatifically.

"Pink hair for a shinobi is certainly conspicuous," Miho commented.

Sakura's face grew to the same shade as her hair. "I know…I've tried dying it but it just looks so awful because the pink stays in…"

"No, it's cute," said Miho. "So what are three shinobi doing here? Certainly not for New Year celebrations—the blizzard's cancelled everything."

"Oh, we're…" said Sakura nervously, "we're here just for some preliminary scouting."

Miho could read her chakra easily. Sakura was anxious and jittery—this was most likely her first or second mission. So the bumbling girl who had followed Sasuke around like a shadow was now a medic. Interesting…

Miho decided to risk it.

"I'm done with patients for today," said Miho. "Can I invite you three in for some tea?"

"Oh…" Sakura looked surprised with the invitation. "Um…" She looked at her companions. "Shikamaru? Chouji?"

Miho studied her companions closely. She remembered Shikamaru—the only one from the Chuunin exams who had passed. Chouji was the rotund one; she did not remember anything spectacular about him. So even though Sakura was the strongest, Shikamaru was the platoon leader…and given that there were only three of them, and none of them higher than Chuunin…either Konoha was severely understaffed, or the mission was an elementary one based on vague rumors. They were clearly not expecting to seriously find Akatsuki-related activity, or else they would not have sent three Chuunin.

Miho frowned imperceptibly. This did not seem like Konoha. It was too simple…they had to be accompanied by a jounin. Konoha would not send such inexperienced shinobi such a distance to investigate Akatsuki—vague rumors or not. They were hiding someone.

"Yeah, I'm freezing," complained Chouji, already ambling over in Miho's direction.

"Wouldn't hurt," said Shikamaru, following his teammate.

"Sorry, then," said Sakura apologetically. "It's only for a bit—the snowstorm is starting up again…"

"No worries," said Miho impassively. "I'm Yuuko. You are…?"

"Oh. Sakura."

"I see. And the others?"

"Shikamaru and Chouji," said Sakura, pointing to each respectively.

"You three seem awfully young to be venturing out on your own."

"Oh…yes," said Sakura. "But as I said…it's just preliminary scouting."

Yes, but no. Preliminary scouting meant there was no danger involved. If Miho wanted to, she could kill all three of these shinobi effortlessly.

Or perhaps it was not that simple. As Miho set up the tea kettle, she saw Shikamaru and Sakura exchange glances. They were waiting for something. Someone.

There was a surge of chakra behind her—a signal. Miho turned around, but Sakura grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her arms behind her back. The Miho in Sakura's hands disappeared with a soft puff of smoke, right as the real Miho appeared behind Chouji and Shikamaru. With two swift presses to their pressure points, Miho knocked them, leaving her with only Sakura to deal with.

"When did you make that seal?" said Sakura, evidently stunned.

"Elementary trick, Haruno Sakura," said Miho. "Which jounin are you waiting for now?"

"H-How—"

"I suppose you knew from the start who the correspondent was," said Miho. "I hadn't expected that. And now…"

A new chakra signature entered her range, and this one, she knew well. Very well. He never failed to impress her—he was at her door in a matter of seconds and a series of blows followed immediately after. Miho parried each, but he forced her back before leaping back himself, ensuring that Sakura was behind him.

"Kakashi-sensei!" said Sakura.

"You did well," said Kakashi. "Though it seems we underestimated the correspondent."

"Oh?" said Miho with a smile. "And what information had you had?"

"That it was just a doctor."

"I see."

"Yes. I wouldn't have expected it to be you, Miho."

Miho stared, stunned. How had he known? She was still disguised and had even changed her own chakra signature.

"Elementary mistake, Miho," said Kakashi. "I've seen that face before at the Sandaime's funeral."

"Ah…" said Miho slowly, finally understanding. "You're right. Elementary mistake."

She cast aside her disguise. Sakura gasped upon recognizing her.

"Kakashi-sensei, this—"

"I know, Sakura."

Miho picked up both bodies on the ground and sat them down on the chairs. The kettle whistled.

"Tea?" she offered.

"What?" said Sakura, enraged. "No, we're trying to—"

"Actually, yes, please," said Kakashi, sitting down at the table. "It's freezing outside."

"It's been like that for the last several months," said Miho. "For you, Sakura?"

"Sensei—"

"It's fine, Sakura. She can't beat me."

"But if she poisons it—"

"I can safely say that Miho cares about me enough not to."

"You're right," said Miho, setting three cups of steaming tea down on the table. She remained standing, as her other two seats were preoccupied by unconscious Chuunin. "It's a bit sad how everyone I care for seems to know that and therefore can exploit it."

"Mm. And I suppose one such person is Uchiha Itachi."

Miho froze. Behind Kakashi, Sakura let out a gasp.

"Don't take me for a fool, Miho," said Kakashi seriously. "It's not hard to piece everything together. You are hiding in Kusagakure as a practicing doctor and rumored Akatsuki correspondent. Considering that you knocked Shikamaru and Chouji out, you're a willing correspondent. If you're willing, that means either you uphold the Akatsuki ideals, which, forgive me, doesn't seem quite like an allegiance-less person like you, or that you've found a particular person you hold allegiance to. One plus one is two, Miho. Where is he now?"

"Here."

Itachi emerged from the backdoor. Kakashi and Sakura got to their feet immediately. Miho whirled around, furious, but much to her surprise, Itachi grabbed her roughly by the chin, covering her mouth, and slammed a kunai into her thigh. Miho let out a choked cry of pain, collapsing on to the floor the moment Itachi let go of her.

"Don't heal yourself," said Itachi coldly. "Think of it as punishment for letting these four in."

"Ha…" gasped Miho, curled up on the ground in unbearable pain. "What…the hell…"

"Now for you two," said Itachi, his eyes glowing red.

"Sakura," ordered Kakashi, "don't look into his—"

Sakura crumpled onto the ground, hit by Itachi's genjutsu before she'd had a chance to protect herself.

"Too late," said Itachi. "Now it's just you, Kakashi-san."

"…What is the meaning of this?" demanded Kakashi.

"What?" said Itachi.

Kakashi glanced at Miho, who was gripping her knee tightly as she tried to muster up the energy to pull the kunai out.

"You mean Chiaki-san," said Itachi. "I believe it's clear. She's a prisoner of Akatsuki. We found her in one of Orochimaru's dungeons a year and a half ago. For obvious purposes, we kept her. But…" He looked down at her. "I suppose one of those obvious purposes requires you to heal yourself." He bent down and mercilessly yanked the kunai out of her. Miho screamed, curling up in a puddle of her own blood as it flowed, unhindered, from her wound.

"Heal yourself," ordered Itachi.

"…Why allow her to be a correspondent?" said Kakashi, rightfully unconvinced. "You've given her freedom here in Kusagakure—if she's really a prisoner—"

Itachi scoffed. "Why do you need proof, Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi didn't answer.

"Perhaps you think something absurd along the lines of Chiaki-san actually being here of her own accord?" he suggested callously. "Or something even more asinine along the lines that…I could perhaps care for her?"

Again, Kakashi did not answer.

"Shall I humor you then?" said Itachi, reaching to the ground and lifting Miho up by her collar. "I suppose it has been a long time since I tortured her. She's gotten complacent."

"Itachi," she whispered as he held her face-to-face. She found no emotion in his face, no mercy in those blood-red eyes. He was serious. This was Itachi the killer, Itachi the criminal, Itachi the S-Class criminal—

He disregarded her plea. The Sharingan swirled briefly and immediately Miho was screaming—memories, images, sensations that she had only recently stopped dreaming about flooded her senses, pain, torture, Orochimaru's leering face—it could not have lasted more than mere seconds but she felt like it took centuries, the sensations of fear and despair, pain at its rawest, cruelest form—_stop_, she heard herself screaming, _stop, please_—

"Stop it," said Kakashi harshly.

Finally, it did. Itachi dropped her, and Miho collapsed, shuddering, nauseous.

"Don't throw up," said Itachi apathetically. "It's unsightly."

"Your point's been proven," said Kakashi, his tone level but clearly enraged.

"I'm glad," said Itachi monotonously.

"…Return her to Konoha," said Kakashi.

"I think not," said Itachi. "Take the children and leave immediately."

Kakashi hesitated, his eyes fixated on Miho. His concerns were obvious—leaving ensured the safety of the three children and himself, for Itachi would not pursue, but if he left, he would most likely never find Miho again.

"Kakashi-san," said Itachi dangerously. "My patience is wearing thin."

"Very well," said Kakashi calmly. "We will retreat for the time being."

"A wise decision."

"Do not kill Miho," said Kakashi. "Please."

"…You, of all shinobi, should know that such sentiment is not warmly received."

"And you, of all shinobi, should understand this sentiment best," said Kakashi warningly.

"…Fine," said Itachi. "She remains alive. For the time being."

Kakashi nodded, relieved. He quickly piled up all bodies onto his shoulder and, with a final look at Miho, disappeared from the room. Itachi remained motionless until his chakra signature had disappeared completely from the village before turning immediately to Miho, his aura completely different.

"Miho," he said urgently, kneeling beside her. He brought a hand up to her shoulder. "Miho—"

"Do _NOT_—" she shrieked. "Do _not_ touch me, you bastard, do not—"

He ignored her and brought his hands to the leg he had wounded. She had stopped the bleeding, but the physical wound itself was still raw and damaged. He tried to repair the deep tissue and muscle, hands trembling slightly as he did, but the task was beyond his medical capabilities.

"Miho," he whispered, "please listen to me."

"No," she said, shaking violently as tears streamed down her face, "let go of me—let _go_—"

"Miho, I had to."

"H-Had to? No, you didn't—let _go of me, you fucking psychopath_—"

He paused, his crimson eyes probing her expression. Finally, he obliged, retreating several feet.

"Miho," he said, his voice strained but gentle, "please listen to me."

"No," she said, shaking her head, "no, go away—"

"Please—"

"_Get the fuck away from me, Uchiha Itachi_."

He fell silent, his hands outstretched as if he was holding her from a distance. The silence filling the space between them grew heavy and suffocating; Miho tried to breathe as best as she could, trying to calm herself down, but she could not stop shaking or crying or the budding hatred for Itachi that she thought had disappeared—

"Miho," he whispered.

"…Go away," she said, curling up against two corners of the wall. "…Please."

"…I will," he said softly. "Tend to your leg."

He stood up, and after several seconds of shuffling around, he exited the clinic, his chakra growing farther away. Miho nearly choked on a sob as she tried her best to stabilize the chakra in her hands enough to treat her leg.

What had she expected?

It was Itachi. Uchiha fucking Itachi.

And he had no weaknesses.

* * *

_free talk:_

hello everyone! i hope you didn't have to wait as long for this update. i am going to try and be a more diligent updater for the rest of the summer, so please bear with me.

this chapter is obviously one that is much-less-canon, but i felt like it was an important one. (lj for more).

thank you to everyone who reviewed! i try to cherry-pick and reply, but usually i get lazy. i will be better.

also, if you haven't seen yet, i have started another dgm fic called little secrets. if you have time, i'd love it if you checked it out.

in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed this chapter and i will see you next time. please review :)  
xoxo,  
m.n


	21. Safe and Silent Sound

**Chapter 21: Safe and Silent Sound**

She wasn't sure where Itachi disappeared for the few days following that incident. She had to admit she was glad. It gave her time to think and to bring her intense hatred under control. Or perhaps it was a mixture of hatred and fright. She couldn't be sure.

He was gone for a full week after the incident, during which Miho could only ignore the gaping presence in her life. Her—dare she admit it—excitement for a week's worth, perhaps even more, of time alone with Itachi had been sapped away and replaced by a dull ache of resentment. She could only be relieved that he was not around to bear the brunt of her simmering loathing. She tried, many times, to convince herself that what Itachi had done was for her own good.

She could not.

And so Miho had carried on with her life normally—as normally as insomnia would allow her to, for the nightmares she had ensured that she did not sleep for more than two hours per night. It disrupted her chakra control slightly and made her immune system weaker, but she did not have much of a choice. Insomnia was one of those symptoms for which shenever had a proper cure.

Itachi returned late at night, when Miho was closing the clinic and preparing to return to the apartment. She turned around, putting peroxide in the cabinet, and there he was. She had to be surprised that he could sneak up on her, but she was in poor condition and truthfully, anyone could've come barging in to the clinic, raging to kill her, and she would've welcomed the distraction. But no, it was only Itachi, quiet and contrite. They spent several seconds merely looking at each other, before Itachi finally broke the silence.

"You look terrible," he said. He had noticed the bags under her eyes, her increasingly waxy complexion, and perhaps the potentially noticeable weight loss, just when she'd recently re-entered a normal weight range for her height.

Miho did not answer. She tucked the clean linen sheets over the nearest bed and headed for the exit, intending to ignore him completely, but he caught her wrist as she passed. She snapped it out of his hand immediately, eyes flashing in warning; he understood and gave her several feet of space.

"I know you are angry," he said. "You have every right to be. But we need to talk."

"About what, exactly?" she said frostily. "If I don't want to listen, will you use force?"

Itachi had no answer. Miho scoffed and continued on her way out. Itachi followed her silently, trudging through the snow all the way to her home. Once they were in the confines of the house, though, he spoke again.

"Miho. We need to talk."

"Where have you been?" she said coolly.

"I found Kisame and we spoke with the Leader."

She turned around to face him as Itachi removed his snow-laden shoes and hung his cloak near the front door.

"…About what?"

"You."

She grew suspicious. "For what?"

"For you to return to Konoha."

Miho stared. "What?"

"I have bargained…and the result is…within limits, you may return to Konoha."

"What?" she repeated, stunned at this revelation.

Itachi mistook her shock for reluctance. "Surely you want to?"

She did not miss the hope in his voice, that perhaps he would be wrong. She felt something odd in her, knowing that he wanted her to remain, but it was dull in comparison to the anger and disbelief that were still fresh.

"Leave?" she said.

He nodded.

"AndAkatsuki will just let me leave," she said sardonically. "Waltz out of here, free. I would believe you, if not for the fifty million times that Kisame has swung his stupid sword in my face and elaborating in gruesome detail what would happen to me if I tried. You've already tested my genjutsu resistance, Itachi, but don't test my intelligence."

"Miho," he said, and finally there was a trace of anger in his voice, "please understand that what I did last time was necessary to keep you safe."

"Me? Safe?" she let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, Itachi, how am I safe? I am in the company of multiple S-Class criminals—Hidan wants to kill me for fun, Kakuzu wants to bleed me dry, Kisame wants to lop off my head, Sasori wants to experiment on me, Deidara uses me to see how much chakra he should put in his bombs—and you use me to, what was it, oh yes, you torture me to _make your point_." She ended in a derisive snarl. "Do tell me how I am _safe_. Kakashi would have never hurt me."

"No," seethed Itachi, "but the rest of Konoha would if they knew you were staying with Akatsuki willingly. You are an intelligent woman, Miho. Surely you saw there was no other way."

"There were plenty of other ways!" she cried. "And who cares if Konoha thinks I am with Akatsuki—that village has already blacklisted me!"

"But not Hatake Kakashi," said Itachi. "And as long as Hatake Kakashi believes that you are here against your own will, then he will always be able to make Konoha a haven for you."

"And now," said Miho, understanding, "you think that I want to run, and Konoha will welcome me with open arms."

"Essentially, yes," he answered.

"You expect me to believe you?"

"Who else could you believe?"

"Believe?" laughed Miho. "Believe _you_, Itachi— I have never _believed_ you, not when everything you say is full of lies and your own arrogance that you can hide everything—no, you're just the same as you were when we were children. Your belief that you are so much more superior, your belief that I could not possibly complement you and understand your motives—I could never believe you, Itachi, not after what you did."

"Then what has everything been for?' he asked, his tone steely. "I thought you trusted me, Miho."

"Trust and belief are too very different things," she whispered. "Just because I have always trusted you blindly, like a fool, does not mean that I have ever believed you."

"Then return to Konoha," he said coldly. "I am not lying—Leader will allow you to leave."

"On condition of what?" she said sardonically. "I cut off my tongue so I'll never spill all of Akatsuki's secrets?"

"The information we have given you is the same information that Konoha already knows," said Itachi. "We have our own moles in Konoha. Leader knows that you know nothing else—I have argued that the only reason we kept you was to treat me, but I am fine, and so you are no longer unnecessary."

Miho scoffed. "Do you really think your Leader would let me leave, alive? You know as well as I that the moment I start traveling, Hidan will conveniently pop out of the bushes and decapitate me. You are an idealistic, naïve fool, Uchiha Itachi."

"I will escort you," he said icily. "Though understand that right now, I have half-mind to decapitate you myself."

"Go for it," retorted Miho fearlessly.

"Big words for someone who cowers at the slightest mention of Orochimaru."

Miho hissed loudly, a sound reminiscent of the one man she detested beyond belief, but Itachi seemed to regret the words the moment they fell from his lips.

"…Forgive me," he said after a long pause. "I…I don't mean to be confrontational. Please forgive me."

"No."

"Miho, I…you have to understand," he said. "I am capable of many things. I am capable of hurting you. But this is a way to keep you safe. I am offering you an opportunity to go to Konoha, to stay there and live a normal life."

"And forget all about you," she said acidly.

"…Yes," he said honestly.

It was tempting. So tempting. After what had happened, she could not find herself being at peace near Itachi; even now, when he was standing in front of her, talking calmly, trying to help, she was afraid, knowing that he could hurt her just as easily as he had before. Itachi knew this as well, and she knew that he meant for the best. But the last time he had meant well, he had stabbed her and tortured her. Which, to him…had been the best idea.

She had to bite on her lower lip, holding back a hurtful response. Even when Itachi was an S-Class criminal, why did he seem so much…better than she did?

_Yes, better_, her vindictive conscience nagged, _if better means torturing the woman who consents to sleep with you even though you tried to kill her seven years ago, and successfully killed her father at that._

Miho pushed aside all the swirling thoughts of hatred and let out a sigh. She had no purpose living in Konoha—she knew this. No matter how Itachi treated her, even when he could torture without a moment's notice, she could not leave him. He was…he was Itachi. She studied him. He was a poor man. A man with debilitating health even though he was barely over twenty. A man who did terrible things but had a reason. A good reason. Always. She trusted him, even if she did not believe.

"I need time alone," she said.

"…What?" he said, taken aback by the sudden declaration. She must've been the first person on the face of the planet to successfully confuse Uchiha Itachi.

"Time. Alone," she repeated. She gave no indication of her emotional state—a tumultuous one—as she spoke. Itachi looked unsure, as if he did not know how to react.

"Itachi. I am a straightforward person. This is not a trick…command," she said. "I need time alone. I need to think. Your mere presence disrupts my thinking. I dislike that part about you tremendously. Right now, I dislike you more than I ever have, except for the times I believed you to be a psychopathic bastard who killed my father and tried to kill me for stupid reasons." She realized she still didn't know exactly what "these stupid reasons" were, and this infuriated her all the more.

She took a deep breath.

"Itachi. Please get out before I explode."

"Miho, I cannot follow your train of thought."

"Out," she said through gritted teeth. "Just. Go to the room."

He nodded, perplexed, but retreated. The moment the door closed behind him, Miho's body relaxed, and she collapsed into the loveseat near the fireplace. Itachi had already been home and had started the fire, which she was grateful for now that she was shivering, though not out of the cold.

Her mind was in chaos. There were so many things that she needed to think through—the most pressing of which was what she could do with a leave to Konoha. She had wanted to return for the medical facilities and supplies, but that was not all that was available. There were answers in Konoha. Answers to her unresolved anger, answers that Itachi would never give her willingly. If Akatsuki would actually allow her to go to Konoha, then there was much she could do to take advantage of that opportunity.

She brought her wrists together and Summoned her journal. There was too much to think about, and she found that writing, if even just scrawling, helped her organize her thoughts and reach a logical conclusion. Taking a pen from the desk nearby, she peeled open the covers to a blank page and wrote, after some hesitation: _Reason for massacre._ Below it, she began a list of bullet points.

_Uchiha discontent. _ _Distrust in Konoha._ _Hiroki's involvement. _ _Itachi and ANBU. _ _Itachi and Hokage. Itachi and elderly councilmen. They knew he was coming._

She stopped here, unsure of what else was supposed to be on the list. She changed topics. _Disease._

_Saruji blood repercussions._ _Heart degeneration._ _Chakra build-up._ _Decreased lung capacity. Tuberculosis?_

She then ticked off every symptom she could treat. Chakra build-up, though that was a factor of heart degeneration…decreased lung capacity was a factor of chakra build-up, the tuberculosis-like activity was most likely a combination of pneumonia and heart degeneration, which she could treat individually…

Miho pursed her lips.

Everything circled aback to the degenerated heart. She did not know exactly how to bring dead tissue back to life. Being able to do so implied that one could technically revive the dead, which she knew was both morally wrong and impossible. There was no cure for heart disease, much like how there was no way to completely prevent a heart attack. The heart was a dangerous organ to operate on: heart transplants were difficult and did not have a high rate of success, and dead parts of the organ could not just come back to life.

Yet as if she were possessed by something, her hand was already scrawling something in the margins of the page. She squinted at the tiny letters, and when she realized what she'd written, she knew that the size of the word reflected just how innately terrified she was of this man.

Orochimaru.

A surprising calm washed over Miho. She was allowed to gloat in her glory and genius for one minute. And then she began to write furiously, this time in properly-sized letters.

_The Sandaime sealed Orochimaru's arms—limbs that were essentially rotting flesh on a living body. Couldn't figure out—blood does not work—but that is because there's no circulation. Clumps of deteriorating tissue. Cure?_

_Senju Tsunade._

The sentences individually did not make much sense, but Miho had merely been brainstorming and had no need for elegantly phrased or grammatically correct sentences. She snapped the journal shut and resealed it. Orochimaru had gone to Tsunade after he'd realized that Miho did not know the answer. Though she was disappointed that she did not know the answer to this medical conundrum but someone else did, she shelved her pride and began to think. Tsunade had known how to revive the dead flesh, which meant that either Miho could stubbornly keep thinking about it and figure it out on her own—which she could, given a very long time and the proper textbooks—or she could take advantage of the possible trip to Konoha and wheedle information out of some unknowing medic nearby. She did not even delude herself that she could possibly take on the Hokage; besides, Tsunade's temper and monstrous strength were infamous. Miho liked herself in one piece.

But the woman was likely _the_ best medic in the country, and Miho wondered if she could somehow trick it out of her. She had never been good at planning these things.

She would not return to Konoha to run away. She would, however, have to return for Itachi's good. Her lips thinned into a fine line. He did not deserve everything she did for him.

"…May I come out now?" said Itachi politely from the living room doorway.

Miho scowled—she had not heard him come in.

"How long have you been there?" she asked.

"For the last five minutes. What were you writing so intensely about?"

"About my jackass of a husband."

Itachi blinked, as if he needed to register that they were indeed husband and wife. She knew that he viewed the marriage the same way she did—as a trivial civil registration.

"Ah, yes," he said slowly. "My wife would be you."

"Genius."

"Fate is cruel to give me such a violent and sharp-tongued woman for a spouse."

Miho arched an eyebrow. Such a joke was no longer valid, coming from Itachi, and he knew it. There was the barest flicker of a smirk on his lips before he proceeded to sit in front of her.

"I know," he said, "without you telling me. I am eternally undeserving of you. Fate is cruel to you, not me."

Miho said nothing, though she disagreed with this last bit of his statement. Fate was plenty cruel to Itachi. Considering that she was still somewhat angry, though, she did not give him the satisfaction of knowing that she pitied him.

There was no one around, and Itachi always disabled the cameras whenever they were alone. Thus, he made a rare display of affection, reaching across and taking her hand in his. She was tempted to snap it away, for she knew how uncomfortable they both were with this kind of sentiment, but she did not.

"Miho, I have given you multiple chances to run away from me. This time, I know you want to take it. And rightfully so." He paused, solemn. "I am quite terrible to you. I can be cruel. I am an awful patient. I can wound you while you are healing me." His thumb ran over the surface of her hand, a rare part of her body where the skin was smooth. "Miho, believe me when I say that if I had to, I could kill you." He looked up at her, his dark eyes combing her face, as if memorizing it. His other hand reached over and touched her cheek, running his fingers down the bone to her chin, and then to her neck. He pulled her forward, so close, like in a kiss, except his hand behind her neck tightened.

"I could kill you," he whispered. "Just like this. I could do it. I would hate myself for it, but I am so used to hating myself, Miho. Do you understand?"

The barest hitch of her breath, suspended in the air like a dangling pendant. Hovering. She thought the air could crystallize between them.

"…Yes," she said with startling peace. "Yes, I do."

"…So you will go to Konoha."

"No."

This was not the answer he had been expecting. But she knew it was the one he wanted. His body relaxed, his grip on her neck softened, and he brought both hands up to cradle her face.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I refuse to run," she said steadily, looking at him right in the eye. "I refuse to leave just because you attempt to frighten me away, just like you did when we were children."

"I am not attempting to frighten you; I merely do not wish to hurt you, even though I am capable of it."

"No. I will not run."

A long silence ensued.

"…Does this make me a masochist?" she asked wryly.

A quiet scoff. "I don't know. That, or insane."

"…You want me, don't you, Itachi?"

"Yes."

His "yes" was not firm, not a "yes" that radiated of eternal longing, love, and affection. It was not passionate; it was not joyful.

It was simple. It was mild.

It was nearly reluctant. It was a matter-of-fact "yes," a realization that was plain and not undying. He wanted her. But that was all. He wanted her because she was around, because she was the only one who could put up with him, could still love him after all this time. She was not special; she was merely convenient.

This should have infuriated her. Yet, for some reason, it did not. Perhaps she'd known this from the start. Perhaps it would hit her later.

But perhaps it did not matter to her for the moment because she had absolutely nothing else. She cared for no one else; she had no one else who cared for her.

She leaned in and kissed him, her hands cradling his neck as she pushed him back on his chair and leaned her weight on his chest. He kissed her back gently, his hands snaking under her clothes and slowly, agonizingly, tugging them off of her. It was a strange resolution to their argument, but she had to admit that ever since he'd returned, it had taken quite a bit of self-control and considerable bouts of anger to prevent herself from jumping on him.

It had taken her a few months to stop panicking every time they had sex, and then a few more times for her to realize that it could be enjoyable, and then several more times for her to actually start yearning for it when Itachi was gone for too long. He was always unbelievingly careful; she did not miss the amount of effort he took to make sure that he was not pinning her down, not forcing her to do anything. He was never rough but surprisingly never boring. Itachi was, well, good at everything he did. Some people were just blessed.

And so in this respect she was very lucky, because Itachi and she were always on the same wavelength when it came to wanting sex, and some days she worried that the amount of sex they had when he visited alone would strain his heart—which he assured her did not in the slightest.

They ended up on the floor, clothes cast around them and serving as a protective barrier between their bare skin and potential splinters. She never knew how long they lasted—it always seemed like forever—but this time was much more intense, more urgent. Two months of pent-up frustrations and solidary living did that for them. Itachi had never been so eager, and she had never been so responsive. Her fingers entwined with his, the feeling of his lips all over her body, the amazing sensation of him inside her, his movements aimed to please that made her just want to scream—this was an odd conclusion indeed; if this was the way all their arguments would end, she would not mind at all.

"Good job," she said dryly after several minutes of silence following their simultaneous finish, him lying top of her, his nose buried in the crook of her neck as they recovered.

"…Thank you."

She did not miss his pleased-with-himself tone and rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she said acerbically, "you are the first man to properly please me. Are you proud of yourself?"

"Clearly, we could have kept going if you still have enough energy to be so sarcastic," he groaned, rolling off her.

"That never takes energy."

"Then next time, we'll keep going until you fall asleep in the middle of it and have no opportunity for pillow talk," he muttered.

"Itachi, we have terrible pillow talk."

"I realize that."

"…Itachi."

"Mm?"

"The next time, regardless of what escape route we need, do not dare torture me."

His grip on her waist tightened. Indeed, they had terrible pillow talk. She knew that he was having difficulty following her train of thought, but there was nothing like a post-sex haze to make her uninhibited, just as if she were drunk.

"I understand."

"We will talk it beforehand. We will come up with an appropriate plan that satisfies both of us. Do not hurt me as a safe getaway plan."

"…I understand."

"…Surely you don't enjoy hurting me," she said mindlessly.

His reaction was disturbingly harsh. His grip grew painful and his eyes swirled into Sharingan, just like they unconsciously did whenever he was angry.

"Do you seriously believe I enjoy hurting anyone?" he demanded.

"No," she said, startled. "I…it was a slip of tongue. Itachi…deactivate your Sharingan. I didn't mean it."

He stared at her for an excruciatingly long minute, but then obliged. The red faded back into his friendly black irises and he looked away, as if he had aged several years in the time span of sixty seconds.

"Itachi," she said, bringing a hand up to his chest. "I know you don't mean to hurt anyone. You…you are so strange. What do your colleagues say about this whenever you're supposed to hurt someone?"

"They say I am delusional and that the foundational moral of S-Class criminals is to have none," he said dully.

"Appropriately so," she said, tapping the skin over his heart. "You are so odd. So…so kind."

His eyes flickered to meet hers.

"Kind?" he repeated. "Kind is the wrong word. I am not sadistic, but…Miho, you are talking to someone who tried to kill you and practically succeeded. I killed your father. Why do you—why are you even _here_? And you think I'm _kind_?"

Miho did not have an answer. Itachi exhaled and brought his arms around her body, holding her in a loose embrace.

"Maybe you _are_ a masochist," he said wearily.

"Maybe," she admitted. "Or maybe…I don't know. It's just the feeling I get. You are just a kind, naïve…fool. What kind of criminal doesn't like hurting people?" She glanced up at him, but he was staring past her. "Unless you're not a criminal at all."

"What?"

"Itachi," she said, rolling away from him, "I need to go to Konoha for a few things."

His eyes narrowed. "Such as?"

"I have been planning on it for a while," she said. "Your disease is progressing and it is worrying me because I cannot stop it. I thought that I could at least halt it and then find a way to reverse the damage, but not only are you a terrible patient, the nature of the disease itself is beyond me. I need to Konoha for its medical resources."

"And what else?" he pressed.

She met his gaze briefly. "I need to find out why you killed your family."

Itachi's breath hitched. "…I…"

He didn't seem to have an appropriate response. What, indeed, could he say? He couldn't say that finding out the truth was unnecessary, nor could he demand that she stop. Likewise, he could not encourage her. Miho knew all this very well.

"It's not like you'll give me the answers yourself," she said.

"I…"

"And you cannot deny me the right to find out why my father died."

"Miho, I…"

"I know you don't want me to find out. Your reason must be good. Either very, very good, or you are actually an evil person. Which you cannot expect me to believe."

"Why?" he said. "Do you still cling to your childish fantasy that I am perfect?"

"Itachi, you are not perfect, but an evil person could not love me the way you do."

His eyes widened. The word of "love" never crossed their conversations; it was as if the notion of love was both great and terrible, both too grandiose and much too petty for their thoughts of each other. Miho looked at him calmly.

"I know I am right," she said. "You are not perfect. But you aren't evil, either. You are merely…capable. Capable of evil, dreadful things. But you yourself…you are good. In a twisted, much too twisted way."

"You will find nothing in Konoha," he said.

"Even from the old councilman and councilwoman who knew you were coming after Orochimaru's invasion?" she said lightly, watching him closely for a reaction.

She found none. Itachi merely blinked.

"And what do you expect me to say?" he asked.

"…You amaze me with your acting skills," she said.

"Miho, do not pry into the past. Let sleeping dogs lie."

"Yes, but not sleeping fathers."

His gaze hardened but he did not reply.

"If you don't want me to find out on my own, tell me yourself," she said.

"I cannot."

"Then do not stop me from finding answers on my own," she said testily. "I am entitled to this knowledge, at the least."

"You are wasting your time," he said, closing his eyes. "Unless it comes from me, you will never find what you're looking for."

"And you're fine with this?" she said. "You're fine keeping me in the dark like this, even though you know you owe me this?"

He remained silent for a long time.

"…Itachi," Miho said at last. "I know you don't want to hurt me. But the thing is…does keeping me like this with you, ignorant and frankly, like a bitch-on-call…doesn't that make you feel guilty?"

Itachi scoffed and brought her body close to his again. His chin rested on her head, so when he spoke, she could feel the rumble of his low voice against her ear.

"…If there was one thing I could say that I felt for you, Miho…it would not be love. It would be guilt." He pressed his lips to her forehead briefly. "That, and self-loathing."

* * *

They did not discuss her motives for going to Konoha any longer. Itachi clearly wanted to avoid confrontation, and Miho knew that the thought of her treading closer to The Truth upset him. She felt justified in her decision though—she deserved this, at the least.

Yet sometimes she understood Itachi's unspoken thoughts. What difference would knowing The Truth make? Would she leave him? That was an option neither of them thought was viable. So if it didn't make a difference, then why unearth the buried?

Still, she could not help being uneasy, knowing that Hiroki's spirit was watching her sleep with the man who murdered him. So she needed a reason, a logical, good reason…if there ever was a good reason to kill your entire clan.

He did not try to prevent her from going to Konoha, though. Instead, he organized everything with Leader and told Miho that she was going to have to suffer some injuries if she was going to successfully convince them that she had escaped Akatsuki.

"Who's going to do it?" she asked.

"Deidara-san."

She nodded. "Best choice." Deidara had excellent control over damage inflicted, which was based on the chakra in his bombs. As long as she convinced it to tone it down a bit, she would be in the minimum amount of pain Akatsuki could offer her. Besides, like it or not, she had a hunch that Deidara appreciated her and, if he had a choice, would not want to kill her, which was already several steps ahead of most other Akatsuki members.

"You are going to have to wait several weeks," Itachi said. "Deidara-san is far away, in the Land of Stone. It will take him several days to travel, and then for us to travel to Konoha."

Miho nodded. She was in no hurry.

"You are free to stay then?" she said.

"…Yes," he said. "Kisame-san, I think, feels somewhat bad for abandoning me in the mountains and recognizes that I deserve some rest."

"…I don't mind Kisame," said Miho wisely. "He is honorable in a very, very strange and roundabout way." She turned to Itachi. "So that's it, then? You can stay, and it's just us two?"

"Before you get the wrong impression and think we are free to frolic and accomplish nothing," he said dryly, "let me remind you that we have a significant amount of physical and mental training to do if we are to convince Konoha that you are not an Akatsuki spy."

"Ah. So you are not here for fun," she said, disappointed.

"I am here to train you," he said testily.

"Mm-hm."

"Miho, you are not taking this seriously enough," said Itachi. "If Konoha realizes that you are here of your own accord, they will execute you."

"Itachi, you are such a negative person."

"Practical is the preferred term."

"You know what else is practical?" said Miho, raising her eyebrow.

Itachi's facial expression did not change, though he knew what she was insinuating. "What?"

"Sex."

"On the contrary, sex is the least practical course of action for a shinobi," said Itachi monotonously, as if he were reading out of a textbook. "The elevated heart rates and hyperawareness related to sex are painfully limited to physical touch between the participants, effectively leaving the participants unaware of other external factors. Sex provides the false sense of security that no one will disturb the participants while they are having intercourse, but the fact remains is that the rest of the world is still operating on its own schemes, leaving two shinobi who are in the middle of intercourse dangerously susceptible to attack."

Miho waited patiently until Itachi was finished enumerating the impracticalities of sex, which lasted for a good five minutes. When he finally stopped talking, she looked at him intently.

"Would you like to take that to the bed?" she asked pleasantly.

He ushered her to the bedroom himself.

* * *

The weeks waiting for Deidara to arrive were actually quite serene. Miho and Itachi decided after some debate to remain where they were in Kusagakure—Miho had lain sensor detectors all around the village that would alert her if foreign chakra entered the vicinity of five miles of the village gates, which would give the two of them ample time to run. Itachi doubted that any villages would send additional shinobi, given that Kakashi would have reported them but would have also assumed that they would have left. The safest course of action was therefore not to run, but to remain right under the enemies' noses, where they would least expect.

Contrary to Miho's lackadaisical attitude, she knew the severity of her choice to return to Konoha. Thus, she subjected herself willingly to Itachi's training. The physical training was not too difficult; though it left her muscles aching and sometimes close to unconsciousness, she had long wanted to rebuild the body that she had lost since her imprisonment. Though her chakra control had returned to normal, and perhaps was even better than before, her actual body was only just beginning to fill out. And so training with Itachi provided her with motivation to exercise; thus she did not mind in the slightest.

It was the genjutsu training that she wanted to cringe and run from every time. Itachi insisted that this training would make it harder for Ibiki and the rest of the interrogation team to see into the inner folds of her mind, but this meant that Itachi would attempt and access these thoughts during their training sessions. These sessions were unbearably difficult, miserable, and almost always ended up in tears. She could tell that Itachi enjoyed it no more than she did, especially when the memories treaded into what had happened during her imprisonment. Sometimes, she thought Itachi was clenching his fists so hard that he could draw blood, and that he was contemplating in how many ways he could torture Orochimaru to death, but he never said anything. Instead, he was remarkably gentle after them—strict, but gentle—and after she managed to block him from several memories, he would declare that it was enough for the night, and they would retire.

There was one particular session that Miho had tried her utmost best to block Itachi from seeing several choice memories, and if Itachi had been merely testing her, she would have succeeded. He noticed, however, that she was trying to defend these memories vehemently and therefore probed a bit more insistently.

"What if those had been exceedingly painful?" she demanded, panting from the effort it had taken to defend these memories.

"I knew they weren't," he said. "You wouldn't have tried so hard had they been emotionally scarring. Those memories always fell apart in past sessions because you couldn't bear to even see them. I could tell you were being petty with these."

"I was not being petty," she said angrily. "Itachi, I'm done with you poking in my head; it's not fair that I can't do the same to you."

"You're trying to do the same thing," he muttered, "going to Konoha."

"That is warranted. This wasn't."

"It's not a big deal, Miho." His Sharingan flickered slightly. "I knew you'd been waiting on the bridge."

"That's not the point," she said through gritted teeth, feeling like the child of fifteen Itachi had just seen waiting on the bridge for over six hours in the middle of a thunderstorm. Even nearly seven years later, she felt incredibly uncomfortable remembering that day, the first time she had cast aside all her pride for a single man—a boy, at the time.

"…You're right," he said after a thoughtful pause. "Forgive me."

"You're never sincere when you say that," she said, lying down on the sofa.

"I am. I shouldn't have insisted on seeing the memory," Itachi intoned, sitting across from her. "I was merely…curious."

She sulked silently. He tried not to look amused.

"Miho, why are you so angry?"

"…Because everything's like a game with us," she said after letting her sullenness reign for a little longer. "Because ever since we were children, it was like us trying to figure each other out. And you always won…somehow," she added suspiciously. "You always knew what was going on in my life, but it was never vice-versa. Some of these childhood memories…I feel like giving them up isn't fair. I never get to see anything going on in your head. You saw me waiting on the bridge that night, but I have no idea what you were doing."

"You know exactly what I was doing."

The words seemed to have fallen out of his mouth, for he looked surprised when he heard them himself. Miho stared at him, quiet. The air in the room had suddenly turned frosty, even though they were right by the fire.

Of course she knew what he had been doing. That was the infamous night he had killed his own cousin.

Itachi leaned back in his chair and looked away, into the fire. The flickering flames reflected ominously in his onyx eyes; Itachi seemed cold, aloof, almost statuesque as he sank into thought, a state that Miho did not dare disturb him in.

"Shisui," he said abruptly. The name rolled awkwardly over his tongue. "I have not given him much thought in a long time."

"Yeah," said Miho carefully. "You haven't mentioned him."

He lapsed into thought again, and as Miho watched him, she thought that his expression changed several times. From sturdy conviction to regret, and then, perhaps she was imagining it, Itachi looked like he was triumphant. A triumphant, superior, condescending angel of ultimate glory. The description did not fit, for some reason. Itachi was not an angel.

But he wasn't a demon**,** either.

The triumph disappeared almost immediately, replaced by a somber resignation. He turned to her, and Miho unconsciously retreated.

"Forgive me," he said softly. "I don't mean to make you lose. I didn't mean for you to give up anything unwillingly."

She decided to not say that his apology meant nothing. She had already lost.

And willingly or not, she had already given everything up.

* * *

They didn't talk about Miho's ulterior motive for going to Konoha, but Miho brought up Itachi's disease often. She checked his condition daily, made journals' worth of notes about every aspect of his illness, and had double the amount of pages for speculative treatments. What surprised her—and somewhat annoyed her—was Itachi's apathy towards the treatment.

"I'm doing this for you," she said, snapping one day when Itachi had shrugged for the umpteenth time about a potential cure. "Even if you don't understand a word I'm saying, at least be responsive! Why do I feel like you don't care if you die?"

"Of course I care," he said dully. "Sometimes, I even feel like death is a better option."

"Than what?"

"Hearing you screech," he said, burying his nose into a book.

Miho hissed, unsure if she was angrier at the typical husband-wife interaction they were having or his nonchalant lack of appreciation for her efforts.

"I'm trying to help," she said calmly, trying a different angle.

"I know," he replied in the same sedated manner.

"So will you actually try and help _me_ help _you_?"

"What exactly do you want?"

"A little enthusiasm about your life, maybe?" she snapped, unable to contain herself any longer.

"I don't think I make even a mediocre cheerleader for anything, Miho."

Miho let out a curse and left the room, slamming the door behind her—furious and disturbed as the image of Itachi in a cheerleading uniform popped up and stayed obstinately in her imagination. That wasn't going to do much for her sex life.

Despite their clashes and more-often-than-not one-sided hissing matches, Miho knew that Itachi was reluctant to see her go. When Deidara arrived at last, Miho half-thought that Itachi was going to decapitate Deidara and make sure that Miho would never get to Konoha. Itachi was more sullen than he'd ever been, and quite honestly, his aura grew more oppressing than she'd ever felt it when he saw Deidara's less-than-inconspicuous Akatsuki gear and platinum-blonde hair make its way to their humble abode.

"Miss me, Uchiha?" said Deidara scathingly upon arrival, his one visible eye glaring up at them.

Itachi chose to give Deidara the most condescending scoff he could manage and ignored him. Unwilling to hear Deidara snipe at a stony Itachi within minutes of Deidara's arrival, Miho took Deidara's hat and cloak and guided him quickly to the kitchen. Itachi was clearly feeling murderous, and Miho harbored no desire to see Deidara cowering in a corner, licking his wounds.

"Food, mm!" said Deidara upon seeing the table laden with food, genuinely delighted. Miho had accurately foreseen that Deidara would be hungry, and when he was, his one vocal mouth was ten times louder than normal, which was enough to drive anyone up the wall. She had wisely eaten with Itachi earlier, which meant that Itachi had no reason to linger in the kitchen any longer than necessary. The moment Deidara sat down at the head of the table, Itachi slipped away into the bedroom.

"So since I'm feeding you," said Miho as Deidara took off the lid to a still-steaming broth of soup, "make sure you don't kill me with your bombs—be careful, it's hot, _Deidara_—"

She was too late. Deidara had eagerly lifted up the pot and had tried to take a big gulp, only to have him spit it out and recoil, howling in pain.

"OW, SHIT—"

"I told you," said Miho, annoyed as she wiped soup off her clothes. "You didn't listen."

"Are you trying to kill me?" he whined. "It's hot, mm…my tongue hurts, dammit."

"Oh, the horror. Try to kill _the_ Deidara with a pot of soup? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Shut up, give me water, mm."

Miho obliged and brought him a cup of icy water, which he downed immediately. She looked at him, unimpressed. She had been hoping for Deidara and her relationship to be something along the lines of hers and Sasuke's back in the past, when Sasuke had looked up to her and saw her as an older sister of sorts. It didn't take much to know that that was the farthest thing from her and Deidara's relationship. Deidara did not respect her in the slightest and only tolerated her because she was relatively civil to him, which only meant that she treated him better than the rest of the Akatsuki members treated their youngest member.

"Continue eating," Miho sighed. "We'll talk afterward, because it seems like you have difficulty multitasking…"

"Shut up. You sound like Uchiha, mm."

"Being around him does make you expect the same level of intelligence out of everyone else."

"I am _just_ as intelligent, thank you very much, mm."

Miho rolled her eyes and made a movement to leave, but Deidara glared at her.

"Hey, I trekked all the way through miles and miles of damn snow for you—the least you can do is keep me company, mm."

She gave him an appraising look but relented. He was still a teenager, whiny and self-absorbed. Humoring him was probably a good idea though, considering that in a few days, he would be blowing her up enough to render her immobile.

"What have you been doing, mm?" he asked, now tackling a chicken leg.

"Medical stuff," she said, looking at her nails. There was really no point in looking at her nails though—she'd never manicured them. "Looking after Itachi."

"Mm, never understood how you turned from his psychopathic killer to his bitch."

"Watch your mouth, Deidara," she said, irritated.

"Fine. I'm going to need you to look at my stitches later—who knows how long you'll be in Konoha, mm."

"Get Kakuzu to."

"No thanks, he likes to maul me whenever he sews me up."

"You would think that me being nice to you would make you nice to me," she muttered under her breath.

"I don't play like that, mm," Deidara smirked, which might have been an attractive sight had his mouth not been filled with rice. "Besides, I'm plenty nice to you—at least I don't try to kill you every time I see you, mm. One out of three Akatsuki members, mm?"

"True," she admitted humorlessly.

"So you supposed to look up something in Konoha?" he asked.

Excluding the Leader, Kisame, and Itachi, no one else knew of Miho's reason for living in Konoha. Clearly, Itachi did not want his health issues exposed to the bulk of Akatsuki, many of whom held his genius in contempt and would have seized any opportunity to take his head. Miho knew of Deidara's passionate hatred for Itachi and therefore steered the conversation far away from Itachi.

"Mm," she said. "There's a particular poison that the Leader wants me to research; it's new and can be transmitted through air, making it practically a bioweapon. The research has only been conducted in Konoha."

"Why don't you just go in disguise?"

"I have some weight in Konoha as I am," she replied smoothly. "They wouldn't let me access the secured files otherwise."

"Huh…" he said thoughtfully. "Can you get some of the poisons, mm?"

"Perhaps. Why?"

"It'd be interesting if my bombs detonated with poison, mm. Twice as lethal and they'd get twice as far."

"I wouldn't suggest that," she said. "If your clay is poisoned, it may affect the chakra pathways that you use to infuse the bombs. And you'd never know who the poison would affect if it's transmitted by air."

"Art's always dangerous, mm."

"Let me study it closely first," said Miho dryly. "I don't want you ingesting anything that'll just make you come howling to me in pain."

Deidara let the comment slide as he scraped his place clean. "All right, I'm done. Wash the dishes."

Miho glared at him. "Deidara. Get up. Do it yourself."

"I'll blow you up, mm."

"Itachi won't appreciate that," she retorted.

"Fine, just hide behind him," snarled Deidara as he stood up. "I'll wash my own fucking dish…mm."

"And then I'll take a look at your stitches," she sighed, feeling an impending headache. "And then we can talk about the plan."

"I thought it was straightforward, mm," he said, sticking his dish under the water and splashing it around. "I blow you up, we leave you on Konoha's doorstep, ta-da, done."

"Something like that," she said, not looking forward to the prospect in the slightest. "Deidara, have you _ever_ washed a dish in your life?"

"I prefer take-out," he said.

"Leave it," she groaned. "I'll get it later. Let's move to the living room, the fire provides adequate lighting."

Deidara followed her and sat down where she gestured, on the seat right in front of the fireplace.

"Strip," she said.

"I know you like it," he said, taking off his mesh shirt.

"Sorry, I don't like younger guys," she said, kneeling in front of him and examining the stitches. "How long has it been since you've had it re-stitched?"

"Last time I saw you."

"…Deidara!" she said indignantly. "That was over four months ago—you need to get it changed every two months! Regardless if it's me or Kakuzu—actually, if Kakuzu does it, you need to change it every month—but it'll get infected if you leave them in!"

"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged. "It's been bothering me, actually."

"How so?" she asked sternly.

"Kinda hurts around the edges."

"Hold still," she said, leaning closer. "…I think it's slightly infected. You're lucky it's winter, Deidara, this would've happened much earlier in the summer."

"Can you fix it?" he said anxiously.

"What _can't_ I fix, Deidara?" she said, allowing herself a rare moment of self-compliment. "You're lucky to have me."

"Yeah, yeah, mm," he said, looking around as Miho sanitized the infected area with one brush of scalding chakra. "Ow, watch it."

"Stop whining. I'm taking out the stitches now. It'll hurt, like always."

"Man, Leader gave you a nice place here—OW, FUCK!"

"It was the same as any other time—"

"IT WAS NOT, IT FUCKING HURT—"

"DEIDARA, RETRACT THAT DAMN TONGUE NOW—"

"WHAT, YOU DON'T LIKE IT—"

"YOU KNOW IT CREEPS ME OUT—RETRACT IT!"

"What is going on?" said Itachi's voice the hallway. He appeared in sight, assessing the situation as Miho fought off Deidara's gargantuan tongue while Deidara continued to whine obnoxiously in pain.

"Deidara-san, kindly remove that abomination to mankind from sight," intoned Itachi. "Miho, you'll need to step farther away to escape it."

"Working on it," snarled Deidara, forcing the tongue back into his chest. "And it's not a fucking abomination, it's a form of art—"

"Perhaps," said Itachi, "if you lived in hell."

"Uchiha—"

"Shut up," snapped Miho, grabbing her needle and sticking it into Deidara's chest mercilessly. Surprisingly, he didn't yell. "I'm covered in your disgusting saliva—shut up, sit there, and let me sew you up so we can finally get to business. Freaking…if I didn't know better, I would think you were just a psychopath, too stupid to be an Akatsuki member…"

"Woman—"

"Watch how you speak to your elders," said Itachi monotonously, though Miho did not mistake the hint of amusement in his voice. He clearly enjoyed torturing Deidara.

"Fuck, if Sasori-danna was here, he'd put you all in your place…"

"Sasori-san would be glad to see you fall to the deepest pits of hell," said Itachi.

"Uchiha, do you not know how to shut up?"

"I would ask you that question,except there can only be one answer for a man with four mouths."

"Stop bickering," said Miho, incredibly irritated as she sewed in the final stitch. "Itachi, did you bathe already?"

"Yes. The water is still warm."

"Excellent," she said, standing up. "Now, I'm going to wash off all this…_drool_, and when I come back, hopefully the living room furniture will still be in one piece and Deidara will still be conscious."

"Hey, why isn't he the one unconscious?"

Miho chose not to answer this question and retreated to the bedroom. Dealing with Deidara was like dealing with a hyperactive, stubborn, and arrogant three-year-old trapped in an eighteen-year-old's body.

She was surprised she hadn't gone insane yet.

* * *

"Do we all understand?" said Itachi, stacking all the papers that he had gone over in the last several hours together.

"Mm…" said Deidara, blinking his eyes tiredly. "We get it…"

"We may have to go over it one more time in the morning, just to make sure," said Miho, stifling a yawn. It was already four in the morning; what Deidara had called it a straightforward plan had taken over four hours for Itachi to explain in excruciating detail. While Miho was exhausted, she had to admire Itachi's composure and ability to foresee any potential catastrophe. It was like he was ANBU captain all over again, except this mission was not going to be executed by him.

"Anything I may have left out?" he said primarily to Miho, for Deidara was already curling up on the couch and drifting to sleep.

"No, I think I understand everything," she said, standing up. "Let's go to bed. I'll get a blanket for Deidara."

"He is stubborn enough to not freeze."

"Itachi…" she said chidingly. "Come on."

He followed her with a weary sigh to the bedroom. By the time Miho returned from the living room after giving Deidara his blanket—she had to narrowly dodge a kick—Itachi was already undressed and close to sleep under the covers. She followed suit, feeling as if her body was made of lead. It had been an unbelievably long day.

"Miho," he murmured as she slipped next to him.

"Mm?"

"Be careful in Konoha. Do not get caught."

"I'll try not to," she said. "Don't worry so much. Kakashi will always help."

"…I wonder why that is," said Itachi.

Miho shrugged. "I believe he…feels guilty. That he pushed me towards you, and things turned out…"

"He didn't expect me to be a psychopath." The words were derisive, and for once, Miho had the vague notion that Itachi detested that term.

"…I…guess," she said quietly.

They laid in silence for a while. Itachi pulled her close to him and buried his face in the crook of her neck, as he always did when he was seeking some form of comfort. Miho brought her arm around his shoulders and hugged him back, feeling rather awake now that she was finally registering that this would be their last night together in a long time.

"Itachi?" she said.

There was no verbal response, but he nodded to indicate that he was listening.

"I've enjoyed these last few weeks," she confessed. "Except for that…time…I have felt so extraordinarily at peace here. With you."

She could tell by the way his body was growing rigid that he was uncomfortable with the sentiment.

"You don't need to say anything," she added hastily. "This is just me…musing. I just…I just enjoyed being…utterly, painfully ordinary people with you. That's all."

"…Such sentiments are foolish."

"I know."

Another silence.

"I hesitate to put you back in danger," he said abruptly.

"I'll be okay."

"I will find a way to contact you should we need to meet."

"Nothing too obvious, Itachi."

"I have an idea."

"What?"

"You will see."

Again, another silence.

Itachi rolled over on his side and looked at her.

"It's the last night," he said. "I suppose we should end it like ordinary people."

"…Deidara's in the next room."

"It's nothing he hasn't heard before."

She did not requiring additional convincing.

* * *

She sat in a small room, five and a half tatami mats wide and long. The room was barely furnished—just a bed and a desk that they had so generously given her. She knew she was alone and that the guards were idle and sleepy, so she had pulled out all her old journals and was reading through them from the millionth time. Who knew that she would be her most useful source of information.

On the very top of the stack was her oldest journal, from back when she was a child. It was worn beyond its years and stained with ink, rain, sweat, and blood. This was a journal she had not re-read often.

It did not take much hindsight to know that the days with Itachi were always the best or the worst days of her life. Everything about him was black and white. No grays.

So it was only when he died that she realized just how much gray he was made of.

She realized that she hated gray. And bitterly, furiously, and miserably, she realized just how much she hated him.

* * *

_free talk: _

__hello! sorry for the wait, and thank you for your patience. thank you also for all your lovely responses to the last chapter, and so i hope this chapter also lived up to your expectations. lj up later if you're interested.

also, special thank you to wingedmercury for beta-ing this chapter (first time having a beta, and she was wonderfull.)

please review! i'll try to update soon.  
xoxo,

m.n


	22. The Turning Pages

**Chapter 22: The Turning Pages**

Kakashi should have known from the day Chiaki Miho returned to Konoha, covered in her own blood, on the brink of death, that everything about her return was just a little too perfect. She was startlingly weak, very close to unconsciousness; indeed she passed out the moment she entered Konoha's front gates. She was detained by the jounin on watch—not that there had been much to detain since she had blacked out—but a voice in the back of Kakashi's head could not help but wonder how exactly she had traveled so far with such wounds and managed to survive. Perseverance of the soul and the will for life would have been sufficient answers for any shinobi other than Chiaki Miho, whom Kakashi knew held no particular regards for life or its insignificant merits. Either something serious drove Miho to survive and return to Konoha—therefore a goal that Kakashi was curious to unearth—or something about Miho's arrival had been premeditated.

However, this tiny nagging voice, as well as any additional cautionary worries about where Miho's allegiance lied took a seat far, far in the back of Kakashi's mental car. He could not deny the relief he felt when he saw her, albeit barely alive. He could not deny the guilt that had haunted him for the weeks following the encounter with Miho and Uchiha Itachi; he cursed his pessimistic imagination as he envisaged the treatment that Miho was clearly suffering at the hands of Akatsuki, and blamed himself for not being able to defeat Uchiha Itachi and bring Miho home. These thoughts would often catalyze a series of regrets not always limited to Miho, but then Kakashi would have to remind himself that dwelling in the past was not healthy, and it was time to move on.

Miho woke up five days after her arrival. During those five days, Kakashi had informed the Hokage of everything regarding Chiaki Miho, from the very beginning of his and Miho's relationship to her peculiar history with Uchiha Itachi, and finally to her unfortunate and surely unwanted associations with Orochimaru and Akatsuki. He was helped with some input from Sakura, though Sakura held more reservations about Miho than he did. She pointedly reminded Kakashi that Miho had not behaved like an innocent prisoner when she had knocked out Shikamaru and Chouji, to which Kakashi answered that the suspicions were well grounded, but perhaps not entirely true. Tsunade did not disregard Sakura's wary hesitation, but Kakashi could tell that the Godaime was successfully intrigued, though for different reasons entirely.

"The last member of the Saruji clan…" mused Tsunade to Kakashi when Sakura was on duty in the hospital.

"I figured this would be a point of interest for you," said Kakashi.

"Well, I can't say I'm not fascinated by the idea of a cure-all," the Godaime said wryly.

"Of course, but a reminder…"

"Yes, of course. I'm well aware of its effects on the user's body. I'm not about to do what Orochimaru did and bleed her dry."

"So what will you do with her?" he asked, his tone a sad attempt at casual.

Tsunade surveyed him seriously. "I'll be blunt with you, Kakashi. Several people have mentioned that you're rather biased when it comes to Chiaki Miho."

"I am," admitted Kakashi. "I harbor kind feelings for her."

"And why is that?" said Tsunade suspiciously. "Are you in love with her?"

"No," he answered easily. "It is nothing like that. I cherish the memories I have with her. I have been fond of her since she was young."

"She helped Orochimaru into the village so he could destroy half of it," said Tsunade, her eyes flashing at the mention of her old teammate. "Not everyone has childhood memories with her, and almost no one else views her so favorably, Kakashi. Even Sakura, who is one of the most amiable people I know, is cautious around her."

"I agree," said Kakashi. "I believe it is wise to have some reservations. I will also concede that Miho is not the most likable of people. Yet I merely cannot bring myself to believe that Chiaki Miho is inherently evil. She is a very selfish person, true, but not evil. I…" He hesitated.

"Spit it out, Kakashi."

"I respect her," said Kakashi simply. "I respect her morals and mentality. She is not a perfect shinobi, but she is as good woman. Life has just been unkind to her."

"What shinobi _has_ life been kind to?" said Tsunade dryly.

"None," he agreed. "But I think you can admit that being stabbed and left to die by Uchiha Itachi, then living for more than seven years as Orochimaru and then Akatsuki's prisoner, is a notch worse than many of the things that other shinobi have faced."

A silence followed his words. Tsunade studied him closely, absorbing his adamant argument.

"So what do you suggest?" she said finally.

"Nothing. Just to give her proper medical treatment, and then wait until she wakes to see what she wants. The decision following that will rest entirely up to you," said Kakashi. "I will say nothing."

"Really?" said Tsunade, surprised.

"I will argue against something unreasonable," he answered. "But I know where my duty lies, and I understand that Miho may appear to be a threat. I also understand my bias. I feel rather comfortable leaving it up to you, actually—this is, after all, your first meeting with her."

"I see," said Tsunade. "We'll discuss things further when she wakes up. I'll have Shizune treat her personally, and I hope this girl understands just how much you vouch for her, Kakashi."

Kakashi thought about it and decided not to reply. He also decided not to emphasize again that Miho was not the most personable of people. He would, instead, ask Shizune to alert Miho that the Godaime of Konoha had a fierce temper, alcoholic addiction, and a tendency to smash things with superhuman strength if angered. Miho would do best to hold her tongue. If she could.

* * *

Miho was surprised at the graciousness with which Konoha received her. She attributed this primarily to Kakashi, but she was especially taken aback by the skill level of the medic who attended to her. At first, she thought bizarrely that Konoha had seen a surge of genius medic nin who could rival her own proficiency, but it didn't take long for her to realize that the woman who saw to her was actually one of the top-ranked medics in the village. Her style of treatment appealed to Miho very much—succinct, clean, and effective. The more Miho read her chakra, the more Miho recognized that her doctor had to be one of the top three or four medics, perhaps even in the country.

When Miho first woke up, she was pleased to find that all evidence of her injuries had disappeared. The healing must have been conducted quickly and well, for it required a high degree of quality in treatment for Miho not to scar. The woman in her room seemed more relieved than stunned to see Miho sit up groggily.

"Finally," she said, a smile breaking out over her comely face. "I was beginning to worry."

She did not introduce herself, but instead focused on a rudimentary checkup and then perused through what looked like Miho's most recent lab results. Miho studied her doctor closely: a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties. With chin-length brown hair, a gentle countenance, and dexterous hands, she was a picture-perfect doctor. Miho appreciated the lack of introduction—she much preferred a physician who concentrated on the health records than on social niceties.

After an unknown number of days of unconsciousness, though, Miho found herself parched. Her voice cracked when she spoke.

"Could I have water?"

The doctor looked embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry! I should've called for a nurse immediately—it's been five days…hold on!" She pushed a button on the edge of Miho's bed. "They should come right away—please hold on."

"It's fine," said Miho, leaning back on her pillows. "There's no hurry."

She looked around her room—it was a standard hospital room, with a window overlooking the streets of Konoha. Kakashi must have convinced the higher-ups that she was of no danger—that, or the medic who was currently treating her believed that she was enough to handle Miho.

It was midday, perhaps slightly after the rush of lunch hour as the streets were crowded with people returning to work. Miho felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia as she watched the inhabitants of Konoha ignorantly passing by below her. This was Konoha. This was her home, after all.

A nurse appeared with a tray balancing a bowl of porridge, an apple, and a glass of water. Miho accepted it with a nod of thanks and downed the water immediately. It cooled and soothed her throat, and she tried speaking again.

"How has my condition been?" she asked.

"Good," replied her doctor. "All vitals are normal and your condition stabilized by the second day. Given that your treatment was extensive, that was an unsurprising result. We hadn't expected you to take so long to wake up though."

"Sorry."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that," she smiled. "We were just worried."

"I won't beat around the bush—am I going to be interrogated?"

"Perhaps," she answered truthfully. "A decision hasn't been made yet. Regardless, you're going to be given some time to rest before anyone calls on you."

"That's nice," said Miho.

"Be sure to keep resting. No strenuous activity. Unfortunately, we're confining you to the room, but—"

"How?" said Miho, curious. "There aren't any guards stationed around."

"Ah, there are guards outside the hospital, I mean."

"There aren't any capable shinobi within a hundred meters of the hospital," said Miho, "except for you. Everyone else is either an injured patient or a medic, but no one nearby could stop me if they wanted to."

The doctor stared at her, any evidence of her affable nature fading into a stern tension.

"I'm just saying," said Miho, unfazed. "You don't need to worry though—I have no intention of running anywhere."

"…I'll return later on tonight to check up on you," said the doctor. "Please ring if you need anything."

She left without another word. Miho allowed herself a teeny smirk, knowing that she should've been more polite after waking up in such excellent condition. Deidara's bombs hurt a lot. She made a mental note to always observe her boundaries with him in the future—she had no intention of being blown up again.

She wondered if she could somehow contact Itachi and let him know that she had woken up, but decided against it. Summoning a crow was risky and could always be intercepted. Itachi had told her that he would contact her of his own accord, and so it was best to patiently wait.

* * *

Her doctor did not return until late that night, when Miho was dozing in and out of sleep. She was pleased to see that she had brought Kakashi with her, though.

"Kakashi," she greeted, smiling.

He winked at her but did not say anything past that. The doctor was studying the two of them closely.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.

"Well."

"That is to be expected," said Kakashi. "Shizune is second only to the Hokage."

"That's not true," blushed Shizune. "Sakura is quickly catching up."

"Sakura is the Hokage's student?" queried Miho.

Kakashi nodded. "Mm, she's developed quite a hand for medicine."

"I see." Miho turned to Shizune. "I'm surprised that the Hokage's first protégé would be my medic, though. I knew you were excellent, but not so reputable."

"Thank you," said Shizune, flattered. "I have heard rather remarkable things about you myself."

Miho gave a thin smile and said nothing. There was no point impinging on her doctor's kindness by pointing out that now, Shizune was third. Miho herself was probably only second to Tsunade alone—she knew from observation that Shizune was good, but there was no comparison.

"Are you here to tell me something?" said Miho to Kakashi.

"No. No decisions have been made. Konoha wants to know why you've come back."

"I came back because—"

"Not now, Miho," he interrupted, and Miho thought she caught a warning in his tone. "I'm not the person who's going to be making the decisions."

Miho arched an eyebrow.

"Then who will?"

"I will."

The door slid open, revealing a youthful and exceedingly well-endowed woman at the entrance. Miho scowled internally at the sight of her cleavage—_such_ excess was incredibly unfair—surely there was a way she could share…

Senju Tsunade was more beautiful than Miho had ever imagined. Miho could not believe that this gorgeous woman had ever been teammates with Orochimaru; the Sannin seemed, if anything, highly capable of disguising their age. Tsunade looked not a day over thirty, though Miho knew she had to be well in her fifties.

The room fell silent following the Hokage's entrance. Both Kakashi and Shizune bowed slightly in her presence, but Tsunade had no eyes for anyone but Miho. Miho felt like she was undergoing an X-ray, as there was not a single trace of humor in Tsunade's face as she scrutinized Miho.

Miho, likewise, took her time analyzing Tsunade's chakra pathways. There was no doubt that Tsunade held the appropriate degree of strength to prove her Kage title; her chakra control was unbelievably perfect, and Miho knew that the slightest flick of one finger could create a chasm in the ground. Tsunade's chakra levels were incredibly high but the quality of her chakra was also vibrant, which was the complete opposite of Miho's chakra quality—Tsunade was blessed with natural longevity, while Miho was cursed with a concentrated chakra that would deplete her life source at a much faster rate than Tsunade's would.

Such was the body of the Senju. Miho could barely be jealous—such anatomical perfection was rare, and justly so. Konoha was lucky to have Tsunade as Hokage.

"Shizune, Kakashi, thank you,' said the Hokage, speaking at last. "If you will leave us."

"Shall we stand guard?" asked Shizune.

"No." It was Miho who replied. "I don't think that'll be necessary."

Tsunade narrowed her eyes but nodded in assent.

"Yes, I'll be fine."

She waited until both jounin were far away before she moved closer, standing in front of the monitors and reading the charts. Miho watched her, feeling surprisingly apprehensive, though it was for completely different reasons than she would have expected.

"Something the matter?" Tsunade asked when she noticed Miho staring.

"…I'm honored," said Miho honestly. "You are the only one who I could ever concede to be a better medic than me. I suppose you could take it as if I'm meeting a celebrity."

Tsunade's features softened ever so slightly, but Miho noticed that she did not relax. Of course. As if flattery could get the Hokage to lower her guard.

"So you think you're better than Shizune?" remarked Tsunade.

"We both know that had you taken me under your wing, I would easily be the best of your apprentices."

"But as you are now?"

"I am still better," said Miho plainly, "based on chakra control, at least. I don't know about diagnosis, though I'm quite confident in myself. Besides, I do have the Ishachi, should things get drastic."

"Define drastic."

"Kakashi is dying," smiled Miho. "Though I suppose since Konoha needs you, I'd make an exception if you were dying as well."

A dry smirk appeared on Tsunade's painted lips. She brought up a chair and sat down on it, crossing her legs as she leaned back in her chair unprofessionally.

"A different attitude from your mother, I believe," she commented.

"So I hear," said Miho, much less amused at the talk of the dead.

Tsunade did not press this topic and resumed looking at the charts.

"Your low blood pressure is normal?" she asked.

"Mm."

"And I assume having the Ishachi also lowers your immune system."

"Somewhat. I am generally careful to avoid any chance of infection, though."

"Any history of autoimmune disorders?"

"Nothing noteworthy."

"I see. You seem to be in fine condition—you healed rather quickly."

"Credits to Shizune-san, I believe."

"Mm. She's a fine medic. So I suppose we can get down to the politics then," said Tsunade briskly. "Why are you here?"

Miho had her excuse ready—explaining how she had managed to escape Orochimaru only for Akatsuki to be her rescuers; she had not been subjected to the same degree of torture that Orochimaru had forced her through, but S-Class criminals were all sadists, and she had attempted to run away when she was left with the weakest of them: Deidara. Still, he had blown her up quite a bit, but she had jumped into a river that she knew flowed in Konoha's direction, and she allowed herself to be carried to Konoha's gates.

The words would not leave her lips, though. Miho remained silent and instead stared at Tsunade, aware that Tsunade's suspicions were growing with every passing second.

Miho had a different answer.

"I want to kill Uchiha Itachi."

* * *

In retrospect, telling Tsunade that she wanted to kill Itachi was not the best idea. She should have said that she'd returned to Konoha to rest and recover, to retire her days as an active shinobi and instead become a civilian. As long as she was docile and did not stir up any suspicions, Miho would have eventually been allowed to live on her own.

Yet she knew that clinging to this original motive was much more believable. Kakashi had just seen Itachi torture her, after all. He knew better than to believe that Miho would simply forget all these incidences and settle down. If her motive was in the open, then no one would find it odd for her to be snooping around the old Uchiha records—they would blame it on her obsession and admit that crazy though it was, it was at least justified.

Tsunade had only nodded in response to Miho's declaration, as if she found it satisfactory. She did not encourage it, nor did she dissuade it. Instead, she'd asked if Miho held any ill intentions towards Konoha—to which Miho had swiftly replied that she had none. Tsunade's penetrating gaze was almost like a polygraph, and Miho knew the older woman was reading her chakra for any disruptions, while also checking the heartbeat monitor to see if her pulse quickened. Miho was not lying, and the results seemed to satisfy the Hokage. She had left an order for continuous rest, but also a warning that Miho would most likely be subjected to interrogation.

Until then, though, Miho was moved to more isolated quarters, a small but fully furnished apartment at the edge of the village where she was guarded by several ANBU members. Eerie and silent, they spooked her somewhat, but they did not bother her, nor did they impose chakra restraints on her. She was glad for this freedom, and was even allowed visitors—well, one visitor. She didn't need more than that though—only Kakashi, perpetually out of his mind and much too good to her, bothered to visit.

"I know what you want to say," said Miho the first time Kakashi came over. It had been a week and a half since she'd arrived in Konoha, and her first day in her apartment. "I don't want to hear your lectures."

"The Hokage did tell me your motive for returning—"

"And you disapprove, naturally." She showed him to the living room, and they sat opposite of each other on the couch.

"Obviously," said Kakashi seriously. "When I first saw you, I thought you'd given it up."

"Only recently, you saw him torture me," said Miho coolly, for even when she thought about it now, she could not help be resentful. "Why would you think I would've given it up?"

"Because…" he answered slowly, "when I saw you in Kusagakure…and then when you woke up in the hospital…and now, even, you don't radiate that same intensity you did when you returned years ago. Back then, I could see that hatred in you the same way I could see it in Sasuke. Now…you seem much calmer. More resigned. That was why I had assumed you were helping Akatsuki willingly."

Miho paused before answering, debating on telling him the truth. She settled with a half-truth.

"Did you ever find anything about the Uchiha massacre very…very odd?" she asked.

Kakashi was taken aback with the sudden turn of conversation. "Naturally. Everything about it, actually. It just hadn't seemed like something Uchiha Itachi would do."

Miho nodded, her eyes focusing on the fireplace that burned to the right of them. The setting reminded her of the last few weeks, as she and Itachi waited on Deidara. She remembered wishing that Deidara would never arrive. Especially when everything was just so…so _comfortable_, so quiet, so very…safe. They would sit on the couch, Itachi's arm casually wrapped around her profile as she curled up against him, under the layers and layers of blankets. They would sometimes fall asleep like that, waking up in the morning with their necks aching painfully, but it was in those moments that Miho thought she could see the closest thing to a smile from Itachi. Not one of those sad, pensive smiles that he sometimes gave her, as if he pitied her, but one of genuine contentment, as if something about their situation amused him. That it was so strange for the two of them to wake up with the generic problem of having to crack their necks in the morning.

"Miho?" prompted Kakashi.

She blinked, recovering from her reverie.

"Sorry," she said. "Just…just thinking."

"Why did you suddenly ask about the Uchiha massacre?"

"Because…because I think the reason I seem calmer is because I'm confused."

"How so?"

Miho bit on her lower lip. "What do you expect Uchiha Itachi to act like toward a prisoner? You'd expect him to be ruthless, right? Cruel?"

"Yes. Naturally."

"But the thing is…he _wasn't_. I mean…he tortured me now and then, but they all did. I felt like he was…" She chose her words carefully, focusing on how she'd felt at the very beginning of her time with Akatsuki, back when Itachi had sent out many mixed signals before they'd finally clarified that he did not want to hurt her.

"He was what?" said Kakashi patiently.

"…Protecting me," she said softly.

A silence fell after her words. Miho was not really paying attention to it—her mind was clearly elsewhere, and her heart was suddenly realizing that after an overall peaceful month or more with Itachi, she missed him. It was a dull ache, a not-painful but uncomfortable vacancy in her chest where her heart was.

Kakashi broke the silence.

"Miho," he said gently.

"…Yes?" she said.

"…Did you just hear what you said?"

She turned to him, bewildered.

"Yes?" she said. "Did I say something wrong?"

Kakashi looked at her kindly, as if this gentle probe would bring her to the answer, but it did not. When that was clear, he moved to sit next to her. He brought a hand up to her forehead.

"I'm fine," she said, brushing his hand away. "No fever."

"I know," he said. "I was just hoping you were sick."

"Why would you hope—"

"Because," he said in that same patient and gentle tone, "you just said that 'he tortured you now and then' but was 'protecting you' in the same sentence. Barely a month ago, I saw him stab you and torment you with Tsukuyomi."

"You know what Tsukuyomi is?" she said, surprised.

"Both Sasuke and I are familiar with its effects," said Kakashi wryly. "And I'm sure that was not the first time you'd been hit by it either."

She shook her head. She was familiar with what Tsukuyomi could do.

"If you have forgotten, Uchiha Itachi betrayed you, murdered your father, and left you to die. Yet," he continued, "you just suggested that Uchiha Itachi was protecting you."

When Kakashi said it like that, Miho realized the full absurdity of her situation. So this was what it looked like from a third person's point of view. If Kakashi knew absolutely everything: that she was sleeping with Itachi, that she had been playing "house" with him for the last few weeks, that she still undeniably loved him and was risking her life in Konoha trying to cure him…Kakashi would surely think she was insane. His expression—or what she could see of it—suggested this already. For some particular reason, Miho felt very foolish under his scrutiny. She knew how irrational it seemed—she could not really explain it.

"I just," she said halfheartedly, "don't think that's all there is to it…"

"Miho," he said chidingly.

"I know," she said, frustrated. "I know it seems insane. I just…"

Kakashi gave her an appraising look.

"In the end, poor, angry Miho is the kindest one of all," he sighed. She could not tell if he was being sarcastic and frowned.

"Don't make fun of me, Kakashi."

"I'm not," he said. "I'm just saying—you're still the same. Once you care for someone, he can exploit you to no end. I can only thank your personality that you don't care for everyone you meet, or else you'd be dead."

"So you're suggesting Uchiha Itachi's exploiting me?" she said sharply.

"Miho, tell me something to convince me otherwise. Right now, I want to send you to a psychiatrist who will be able to make you see the light. Why would you believe he's _protecting_ you? From what? Himself?"

Miho opened her mouth to agree, but then saw that Kakashi was almost being scathing, and closed it. Kakashi would not understand. He did not understand Itachi like she did. And she was convinced, _so _convinced, that Itachi was good.

"I don't know which I'd prefer," said Kakashi, scratching his head, "this confusion, or your murderous motive. Though I suppose I'm leaning towards this confusion because at least you're in Konoha, safe and sound. What do you want to do then?"

"I want to…" she hesitated. "I want to do some research on the Uchiha massacre."

She knew Kakashi was disapproving, but he didn't say so.

"I see. I'll ask the Hokage about it. What else?"

Miho scowled. "I want to do something medically related, but I don't think the Hokage will let me get close to patients."

"You'd be surprised—she keeps raging that the hospital medics are incompetent. I'll ask her."

Miho bared a little smile. "Kakashi, I really could say the same for you."

He cocked his head to one side. "What?"

"Once you care for someone, he can exploit you to no end," she recited. "I came back knowing I would be safe here because you'd vouch for me, Kakashi. I worry about you."

"Does that mean you'd betray me, Miho?"

"I don't want to. I never want to."

Kakashi studied her, perturbed by her response, but Miho was exerting no hostility. He let it pass. Probably because in the same way, Kakashi would never want to hurt her, but he was perfectly capable of it. Just like Itachi.

"Anything else, Miho?"

"Ah…just a small favor. See if you can keep my snooping in the Uchiha affairs away from the elderly councilman and woman."

Kakashi seemed bemused. "Why?"

"I think they know something about it that no one else does."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "About Itachi?"

"Mm. While Orochimaru invaded the village, I was in the records room, trying to find as much about Itachi as I could. I overheard them predicting that Itachi would return. That's how I knew to stay."

This was news to Kakashi, but before he could say anything about it, Miho cut him off.

"I could just be speculating, Kakashi. Just keep mum about it. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

Kakashi nodded, and after a brief pause, turned the conversation elsewhere. Miho did not mind.

There were just some things that she instinctively knew—for example, that Itachi was good. That there had been something fishy about the Uchiha before the massacre.

She also knew that no matter what happened between them, she and Kakashi would always have this odd kind of relationship. In a way, it was the ideal relationship she wanted with Itachi. With Kakashi, she unconditionally trusted and believed him. Likewise, she knew that he felt the same way with her—which was why he could sit in front of her, after everything, and be completely at ease despite that she could simply reach over and decapitate him. Sometimes, she wondered if Kakashi loved her, but then this was another thing that she knew naturally: Kakashi could not love anyone with the same burning kind of passion normally associated with romantic love. Kakashi cared for her, and she for him—but she would betray him for Itachi, and he would betray her for Konoha.

It was not the same with Itachi. It was much more one-sided. They trusted each other but did not believe. Miho would never betray Itachi. She could not confidently say the same for him.

It was funny how arbitrary love was sometimes. She sometimes convinced herself that she wasn't part of it, that what she felt for Itachi was something much more substantial.

Love was for fools.

* * *

Miho had a relatively short temper, and she knew that she irked Itachi sometimes with her nagging. The times she had gotten legitimately angry were far and few in between; contrary to her reputation, she knew when her anger was irrational and when it was not. Thus, she reserved true bouts of rage for situations in which it was deemed necessary.

When Itachi contacted Miho, she was positively incensed. It was not that she was upset that he had contacted her—she had actually grown impatient with the wait—but the methods through which he contacted her. It violated every sense of privacy she had, and she knew that this method of contact had burgeoned in Itachi's mind long ago, but he had purposely waited until she was far away before he actually did it.

Several days after she settled into her apartment, Miho returned to her temporary home, escorted by guards and exhaustion. The interrogation had lasted for nearly twelve hours—she'd been woken up at the crack of dawn and was only now returning at dusk. She was pleased with the results though; Inoichi had not found anything incriminating. This had been helped by the fact that the interrogation team had seen everything she'd suffered through with Orochimaru in excruciating detail. The decision to show Konoha these memories was one that Itachi and Miho had argued over vehemently—Itachi believed that Konoha needed to know just what she had gone through so they would appreciate her more fully, while Miho snapped that she did not think the entirety of Konoha's interrogation squad should be privy to such colorful information. The confrontation had escalated to such degrees that Itachi had tactlessly mentioned that she was being "overtly sensitive," to which Miho had legitimately screamed her lungs out at him, all the while on the brink of tears. Itachi had been ceaselessly penitent the moment he'd seen the reaction his careless remark had garnered, but Miho made a point to remain unbearably bitter to him for the rest of the night.

He never made the same mistake again. Knowing that he was right, however, she had given in at the end.

Kakashi was in the guard that accompanied Miho home. He was abnormally quiet, and Miho knew he was part of the team that had watched her interrogation in full.

He stopped at her front door. Miho turned around and offered a weary smile of consolation.

"Don't worry about it, Kakashi," she said. "I'm fine. You should get some rest too."

"I am quite awake," he said simply. "Do you need dinner?"

"No. I'm going to sleep for now."

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but Miho made it clear that she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Kakashi obliged and bade farewell. Though the guards remained outside, Miho was glad to otherwise be by herself; upset as she always was after the mental prodding and poking, she found herself fatigued but unable to sleep. She collapsed on her bed and shut her eyes, but after several minutes, she knew there was no point trying. She truthfully did not want to be left alone right now, yet that was wishful thinking. Itachi was nowhere nearby.

Miho opened her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd written in her journal; she always tried to avoid writing in it whenever Itachi was around, since, for some reason, she always thought he was judging her when she wrote in it. She brought her wrists together and Summoned her journal aimlessly. The weight of the book fell into her hands, but it was heavier than she remembered. Confused, she looked up and stared.

There were two journals in her hands; the bottom one was her current one, but the one that faced her now was one that she thought she'd lost long ago. It was painfully familiar—on the front was "Property of Chiaki Miho" in faded blue ink, her handwriting as immature as she remembered the contents to be.

Alert and shaking slightly, Miho sat up and let the old journal fall open on her knees. She was _positive_ that she could not find this journal after she'd woken up—she had checked everywhere, and it certainly was not showing up just because she had Summoned it. No, someone had planted it, and this terrified Miho because this meant that someone knew everything she'd ever written from the bottom of her soul.

She hastily flipped through the pages, trying hard not to rip any of the fragile pages. Someone had read this journal many times before; the cover and the contents showed much wear and tear. Miho scanned her old entries and kept flipping, possessed as if she _knew_ there was going to be a note at the end—

There was.

Miho arrived at her last entry, and then, fresh on the next page was a note.

_Miho,_

_First, I beg you not to be alarmed. This will be the means through which I will contact you, as messenger pigeons are easily intercepted, and this honestly is the safest method I could think of. That being said, forgive me. I know you're (justly) furious that I have held onto this journal for so many years. Hopefully you will also understand that I have read this journal many, many times, and this is a testament to my unwavering guilt to you. _

_Write back as soon as you get this, as I need to report to Leader that things have progressed smoothly. _

And as if she did not know who it was by now, there was a black signature at the end of it.

_Itachi_.

An indescribable and uncontrollable fury flooded her like a torrential rain: how _dare_ he—he had kept her notebook for so long and he had _still_ pinned her against that tree to die, even though he knew how much she had given up for him—and the fact that he could access her current journal to give this one to her meant that he had read every other journal she had ever written—_how dare he_—after all their talks, after her confession that she hated how their relationship was so fucking _one-sided_—of course it hadn't affected him, it had been this one-sided from the start—

Miho knew her chakra was escalating wildly and tried to tamper it down—her gray eyes flickered to the page in front of her, and she saw that Itachi had written another, shorter note.

_Miho,_

_It has been over a week since you arrived in Konoha. I expected your response sooner, and so I am slightly worried. Are you purposely not replying because you are angry? I understand if you are angry, but do at least reply so I know Konoha has not executed you._

Now, her anger had grown absolutely irrational. She sensed not the slightest bit of "sorry" from him, and she had heard him say "forgive me" so many times that these apologies merely went in one ear and out the other. She hated how he never said "sorry" but instead said "forgive me," because that meant that she was being the worse person by _not_ forgiving him, and that somehow she _owed_ it to him to forgive him, when in reality, he was the least sorry person she'd ever met—

She grabbed a pen from the desk and began to write frenetically.

_HOW. DARE. YOU. _

_IF YOU THINK FOR ONE MOMENT THAT I AM NOT ANGRY, YOU ARE WRONG. UCHIHA ITACHI, I AM THE ANGRIEST AT YOU THAT I HAVE EVER BEEN—I know already that you are laughing at this, but BELIEVE me when I say that I could just about leave you to die right now—_

_NEVER have I felt so betrayed by you, excluding the time you stabbed me against the tree and then the recent time when you tortured me—_

_OH, I'M SORRY, am I being inconsiderate? Things aren't so funny anymore, are they? These are all issues you want me to gloss over and pretend never happened, right? EXCEPT I CAN'T DO THAT FOR SOMEONE who doesn't even have the DECENCY to leave MY PERSONAL THINGS ALONE—ESPECIALLY when I have heart-to-heart conversations with him about NOT wanting him to know EVERY LITTLE DETAIL about my life—_

_And DON'T YOU DARE try to lecture me about not leaving my soul open and that shinobi aren't supposed to be so sentimental and vulnerable—the only person who knows about my journals is you, and you should've had the COURTESY to leave my journals alone—I cannot believe you had THE GALL to do this, to read every thought that crossed my mind—and you know what?! THE FACT THAT YOU DID SO MUCH SHIT even though you knew EVERYTHING rivals the betrayal of, well, WAIT, what HAVE you done to me OTHER THAN BETRAY EVERY SHRED OF HUMANITY EITHER OF US HAD?!_

_DECENCY, COURTESY, and RESPECT. Have you never held ANY of these things for me? You want me to play the guilt card?! Because I totally can, Itachi—YOU OWE ME THESE THINGS AT THE VERY BAREST LEAST. YOU OWE ME SO FUCKING MUCH, AND YOU COULD NOT EVEN GIVE ME THESE BASIC TRAITS OF HUMAN DIGNITY. _

_Fuck you, Itachi._

She slammed the book shut, aware that her writing had pierced through at least several additional pages, but she didn't care—it infuriated her that her rage was reduced and contained to the confinements of pen and paper—he should've been here, in front of her, receiving the full brunt of her fury because _this_ was a betrayal at its finest, cruelest form—

She grabbed her most recent journal and sealed the old one in the same seal. Then, she retrieved all her previous journals, documenting the five years under Orochimaru, then her return to Konoha, and resealed them under new Summoning seals. It was pointless, given that Itachi had probably read them all and given his Sharingan and prodigious mind, could most likely quote them word for word—this knowledge made her feel a combination of the worst emotions possible: anger, shame, and a twisting agony that she desperately didn't know what to associate with.

This explained so much—from the slight creases and bent pages to water smudges and oil marks on the pages of her journals. She always stared at them, curious, because she was certain that she hadn't creased the pages. When she thought about how far back she could remember odd happenings, she knew for certain that she'd noticed it before the massacre, and this low, swooping sickness only intensified. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Adrenaline was coursing through her now, and she felt no desire to sleep. She truthfully did not know what Itachi could do to mollify her—an apology was utter bullshit, but it was not like he could do much else. The damage was done—he could not un-read everything.

Miho curled up into a ball, suddenly very tired. She absurdly wished that she loved Kakashi instead. And then she felt foolish, a child with insignificant and useless whims.

Itachi did not need to do anything to mollify her—there was no point. She would never abandon him, never betray him. Love—or whatever substantial emotion she felt for him—made her pathetic.

* * *

Itachi had expected Miho to be angry about his method of communication, but when he read her response, he realized that he had successfully infuriated her to dangerous heights. He read and reread the blotchy, screaming response. Miho was wrong—Itachi found nothing humorous about it. He quickly understood that he had overstepped his boundaries. He had known this from the beginning, but he had been reading her journals for so long that the guilt for reading them had slowly eroded to nothing. At the sight of her answer, though, it renewed in full force.

Itachi had rejoined Kisame for missions, and the two of them were currently on the outskirts of Sunagakure. They were supposed to scout out for information about the current political standing between Suna and Konoha, given that soon, Akatsuki would begin to execute its Jinchuuriki kidnapping plans. Itachi found it pointless for him and Kisame to be stationed in Suna, as it was clearly Deidara and Sasori's jurisdiction and target, but the two teams had switched locations. Itachi was inclined to believe that Kisame was secretly following Miho's instructions and forcing Itachi to remain in warmer climates, though Itachi insisted that he was fine in the cold. He was certain at this point that Miho was completely vindictive and would not care if he caught pneumonia, anyway.

He was extremely careful with his response. It was difficult; he did not want to say anything that appeared insincere, or worse, infuriated her more. He drafted it several times, tossing out various forms before finally conceding that the only way he could successfully pacify her would be to give what he always withheld: honesty.

* * *

_Miho. _

_I know you are angry. As I said before, you have every right to be. You are correct: my reading of your journals violated every creed of decent human conduct, and I am truly sorry for it. _

_It has been a long time since I first started reading your journals, which was why I'd expected your anger, but not to this degree. I have spent some time reflecting on your answer and also on my actions, and I concede that I was truly in the wrong. Long years of—what was the word you used—stalking you have made my conscience nonexistent when it comes to invading your privacy. I am a sad case of human courtesy. _

_I realize that these thoughts you write down are highly private and personal. Yet believe me when I say that I did not read them to ridicule you, or to take advantage of you._

_When we were children, and I first saw you writing in your journal, I realized that reading that little book would allow me to still keep in contact with you even after I tried to break everything off. I have no doubt that you will eventually find out the reasons behind the Uchiha massacre, and while I will tell you nothing about it, I will say that at the time I tried to end things with you, I was mentally weary and close to insanity. Your journal gave me the little shred of humanity I could desperately cling to, because as we have reiterated multiple times—you and I are polar opposites, and while I was slowly turning into a monster, you were blooming in radiance. (I know you are rolling your eyes right now and pursing your lips in the familiar fashion that makes your brow wrinkle—please cease, or you will grow old before your time.) At that time, I was struggling with something of great weight, and truthfully, I wanted nothing better to forget it all and die._

_Yes, you heard me correctly. I, the perfect, self-sacrificial shinobi, wanted to stop being a shinobi. Generations of the finest flesh and blood coursing through this Uchiha body, skills and genius that others would gladly sacrifice an arm for—and I wanted to die. I wanted nothing better than to give up all these abilities and live out the dream we had of being both stupid and normal. Yet while I was clinging more and more to this dream, I could see you slowly blossoming into becoming a great medic—is it not odd how suddenly, our roles were reversed? You, who always insisted that you cared for no one and no village, you were now working passionately for a field that could genuinely do good and save lives. And where was I? _

_The role of ANBU captain means nothing, Miho. You said you killed your first when you were sixteen. That is remarkably late. When I was sixteen, I'd killed my entire clan and thought I'd killed you too. I killed my first when I was eleven, when I first entered ANBU. And the more I killed, the more I thought that all my genius was utterly useless—all I was doing was killing people to protect people; bloodshed on bloodshed, an unending cycle of murder and revenge. _

_But I digress. As I was struggling with these realizations, your journals of painfully plain (this is not an insult) entries and normal, emotional things colored my gradually black-and-white world. You, single-handedly, kept me sane. It was why I kept returning to you, kept finding you. I was painfully selfish when it came to you, and I know I still am. _

_You are not an easy person to read. That, and I am not as intelligent as you make me out to be, especially when it comes to you. I knew things about you because I understood you from your entries. Yes, in some ways, the fact that I knew how you felt and still took advantage of you means I am terribly cruel. At the same time, believe me that the little areas where I could provide you with comfort and consolation result from the insight your journals provided me. I realize that it in no way excuses me, but in those times where I believe I helped you, violating your privacy and discarding my humanity was completely worth it._

_I recognize that my relationship with you is not the most ideal by any means. I realize how uncomfortable you are with the apparent one-sidedness of it all. I hope this reply may alleviate this disparity, if even in the slightest. I cannot tell you everything, and I am sorry for it. _

_But understand that in this world, I know I owe no one as much as I owe you. _

_This is not so much a consolation as it is a statement of fact. _

_If you can, please tell me your current situation in Konoha, as well as any suspicions from higher-ups. Judging from your last response, I have assumed that they are treating you well and have at least given you a bed and basic supplies (these are conjectures based on the bent nature of the book, which indicated you had been writing on a mattress, and the pen you wrote with seemed to have very nice ink). It seems it took you a long time to wake up and get some time to yourself, so I hope the interrogations went smoothly and that you are not too exhausted. _

_Alert me immediately with a crow if you need assistance in any manner. If Konoha gives any indication to imprison you, tell me at once. I will come to your aid. _

_Best regards,_

_Itachi._

* * *

She read the response many times. So many times that she memorized it. Word for word. And then she murmured it, caressed it, savored the feeling of every word over her tongue, the individual syllables of the closest thing to the truth that Itachi had ever given her.

_I will come to your aid_. He cared.

_At the time I tried to end things with you, I was mentally weary and close to insanity_. She remembered that. _I was slowly turning into a monster_. Why? _At that time, I was struggling with something of great weight, and truthfully, I wanted nothing better to forget it all and die. _There was a burden—he was putting up a struggle with a decision—the decision to kill his clan. Which meant that he hadn't wanted to. Which meant that something much greater than he had compelled him to massacre his family. Who? What? Why?

_All I was doing was killing people to protect people._ Why did this catch her eye? Was this a motive?

Miho did not bludgeon him with these questions. Her reply was calm, and while she did not forgive him outright, he would pick up on it. Because in the end, she knew he was being modest and that journals or not, he knew her better than she knew him. And she accepted it.

* * *

_Itachi,_

_I am well in Konoha. There are natural suspicions of me and I am guarded at all times, but Konoha is being more than generous. Kakashi is a large part of this. I think the Hokage has mixed feelings about me, but favor outweighs suspicion at this point. It is not like I am here to commit some terrorist activity against Konoha, anyway. I need to ask the Hokage several questions related to your disease, and it is useful to be on her good side. _

_I have asked for access to some medical resources and am waiting on the response. My excuse is that I want to study the Saruji bloodline and see if there is a way to increase my own lifespan, but in the meantime, I will closely study the effects of drinking undiluted Saruji blood. (In the end, I still stand by the fact that that was _the_ stupidest mistake of your life, and I still can't believe you did it. Look where it got you…) _

_In the meantime, I am sealing several additional medications that I have made using the resources here. They should be more efficient than the pills you have been taking thus far. Are there any changes in your symptoms? Are you staying out of the cold? Make sure you do not overexert yourself. I also am inclined to believe that your Mangekyou use exacerbates your condition, most likely because it takes such a great strain on your chakra that your heart, which is the main source of chakra, is too diseased to keep up with its continual use. Kisame has large reserves, so leave most of the grunt work to him. I'm sure he's more than happy to beat up an extra share of people anyway. _

_Likewise, alert me immediately if your condition worsens. I am not nearby to breathe down your neck and tell you to actual take your medications, but DO listen to my instructions. Your health is most important. If you are ever in the neighborhood, let me know and I'll see if I can sneak out under the premise that I'm taking an extra long bath. If you can, try to come soon because you're way overdue for a checkup and I'm pretty sure you're still not listening to my instructions. _

_All the same, try to be good,_

_Miho._

* * *

He was not a dog nor a child, so Itachi did not understand why Miho talked to him as such. Nevertheless, he was relieved that she was no longer angry. He had admittedly checked to see if he could still retrieve her journals—he could not—but at least he had this form of communication. He found that it was much easier to be honest when writing, and also realized that Miho was much more transparent when she wrote.

* * *

_Miho,_

_The pills were more ill-tasting than the previous ones and I do not know if I appreciate the change. If they do not result in significant improvements, I might switch back. Let me know if this is safe. _

_In the meantime, I have heard notorious and rather frightening things about the Godaime Hokage. Be careful not to irk her in some way—I do not think she would hesitate to split your head open. Be subtle and do not arouse any suspicion. I assume you are also sniffing around aspects related to the Uchiha massacre—I urge you to give up, though intuition tells me you won't._

_Kisame is an insufferable child who I do not trust to get jobs done cleanly. He enjoys sawing people up, and since he is the only person in the world who enjoys such an activity, he does a poor job hiding his work. I would rather do his part of the work. I will heed your words and not use Mangekyou unless necessary. In this aspect, I am actually an excellent patient, and do not need you to jibe at my lack of sense. _

_I will try to come to Konoha if I can. As of now, I am deployed in Suna. Once we are complete with work here, I will see if I can stop by. Also, be aware that Akatsuki is rolling out many of its planned activities soon. Deidara-san and Sasori-san will be enacting an attack on Suna within the upcoming months. _

_What you choose to do with this information is up to you. Just do not make things too obvious._

_Watch your tongue, _

_Itachi_

* * *

Itachi was a child who liked to be spoiled. He carried an acidic sense of humor and liked to annoy her tremendously. Itachi's responses were always dry and sarcastic, and if Miho didn't know better, she would've thought that he was a teenager whose sole purpose was to be whiney.

* * *

_Dearest husband,_

_I do not care if you think the pills taste bad. Eat them anyway. Stop being such a child. I don't have patience for children._

_Things are progressing well. I do not know how often you check this journal, but I make a point to check it every day. You are probably busier, though, and don't have time to reply as often. Actually, it's more likely that you're afraid Kisame will make fun of you for writing in a journal, and to protect your manhood, you wait for weeks in between before replying me. That is petty and pathetic. Reply faster._

_I know better than the piss off the Hokage. I'm not that stupid. You'll be glad to know that I think she likes me, and honestly, I like her too—she's a brilliant woman and I appreciate her amazingness. She has informed me about my kekkei genkai more than any textbook could; it seems that she worked with my mother back in the day. I have skirted around the more obvious question of asking how to cure the side effects of drinking the blood, because I think you _might_ just be the only person to have been stupid enough to do it in the last decade, and I think she'll know who I'm talking about if I ask. I'll have to figure out another way to solve your predicament. _

_You didn't tell me anything about your condition. Are you sick? Did you take the pills? Are you feeling better? They should clear your chakra pathways in your heart, much like how I do in person. Let me know if it works. Don't go back to the old meds, but if the new ones lead to some side effects, STOP TAKING THEM IMMEDIATELY._

_I don't care if Kisame likes sawing up people. Let him do his job. Everyone knows Akatsuki likes doing crazy shit anyway. Now that I think about it, it's sad that you're the closest thing to normal in that group. (Just _how_ does Kisame get his chakra levels to be that high? It's inhuman. And how is his skin blue? Is he half-shark? Can you ask him for me? Because if zoophilia played a part in his birth, I would be intrigued. Deidara is a marvel—I _love_ his body. Most interesting chakra pathways I've _ever_ seen, and his control—don't tell him this—is perfect. Sasori confuses me because I'm pretty sure his body isn't human since he doesn't have chakra anywhere other than his heart. Hidan and Kakuzu can go to hell. Your Leader, too. And the Venus Flytrap. What IS he?)_

_Please don't let anyone in Akatsuki read this. They would kill me. _

_And what do you mean, I can do what I want with that information? Do you want me to tell Konoha? Why are you helping Konoha? I am unearthing some information about the massacre that I want to ask you. When are you visiting?_

_Enough questions. Reply quickly, or I'll be angry._

_Your ever-perfect wife,_

_Miho._

* * *

Something about her last response must have annoyed Itachi. His next note was extremely terse.

* * *

_I do not want to hear that you love Deidara's body ever again._

* * *

They communicated like this, back and forth sporadically, for several months. Eventually, the guard on Miho eased up slightly. She knew Tsunade did not trust her completely, but at least on medical issues, they were colleagues who leaned close to the friend-side. She got along with Tsunade's protégés as well, but most of the time, Miho worked alone. If she asked questions, she would only go to Tsunade.

In the meantime, she investigated the Uchiha massacre in secret. Kakashi gave her no help, especially because he disapproved immensely, but several weeks into it, he visited her for their weekly dinner. They started off with the normal niceties, asking how each other's respective work was coming along. When they were washing and drying the dishes, though, Kakashi grew serious and told her in an undertone that she was raising peculiar questions from the elderly council advisors, Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura.

"Like what?" asked Miho warily, taking care to keep her voice quiet. She never knew if there were cameras around.

"I believe they've noticed that you disappear from your workspace occasionally for several hours at a time."

Miho pursed her lips. She had always been careful when she left her work, and always double-checked to see if there was anyone tailing her. Sometimes, though, she had picked up on the sensation of being blinded; someone in Konoha had chakra barriers that could cripple her. This was worrisome.

"Is there anyone else who might be invested in what I do?" she said.

Kakashi hesitated before answering. "Do you know Shimura Danzou?"

"An elder," said Miho uncertainly. "He wanted the role of the Sandaime Hokage but was shunted aside. Leader of Root. Anarchist and fascist. In other words, a senile, bitter old man."

Kakashi tried not to appear amused by this biography. "Yes, but no. He is bitter, perhaps, but far from senile. He is devious and terribly clever. He also holds a tremendous amount of influence; Root is a very powerful faction of ANBU. There is certainly no love lost between him and Tsunade, but she does not dare get rid of him."

"But what does he have to do with me?"

"Don't ask me how I know—I believe he's tailing you."

Miho's eyes narrowed. "But why?"

"I don't know. I would assume he knows something that you're looking for, especially if you believe the other elders know something."

Miho remained silent as she thought.

"Miho, may I ask what exactly you're expecting to find from this digging?" said Kakashi. "Has it not occurred to you that Itachi truly killed his family because he wanted to be the last surviving Uchiha? That he is madly power-hungry and will stop at nothing to achieving the ultimate greatness from the Sharingan?"

"…I have thought that before. But…" Her voice trailed off, and she let out a sigh. "You think I'm crazy."

"I admit I haven't ruled out that possibility," said Kakashi wryly.

"It's okay, I haven't either," she said in a tone that matched his. "I admit that I don't feel like I know Itachi well. That maybe the personality I knew him to have when we were fifteen was all fake. But…but don't you ever get…don't you ever feel like it's so _wrong_?"

He did not miss the hope in her voice; he brought a hand up to her shoulder, cautioning her to not get out of control. Miho breathed in deeply.

"I'm just saying," she continued in a low voice, "that I feel like something is there, something that he won't ever say. But I know he didn't kill his family because he wanted to. And he is the least power-hungry person in this world—I am positive of it."

"How do you know?"

"…He told me," she said.

"And you believe him?" said Kakashi coolly.

"…Yes."

Kakashi did not answer, but Miho could sense that he was angry with her. She shifted nervously on her feet—she knew that Kakashi did not want to be told that she trusted Itachi especially after everything that he did. She could not persuade anyone to feel the conviction she felt when it came to him.

"I know you're angry," she whispered, "but I am coming close to finding something. There is plenty of red tape around the Uchiha massacre, and if people are tailing me, then that means that there's something to hide."

"What have you found?" said Kakashi sharply.

"I'll tell you when I'm one-hundred percent sure," she said.

"How sure are you now?"

"About eighty percent. But I'm certain Konoha is hiding something important."

"Miho, do not do anything dangerous."

"I'm not. But if I disappear suddenly, I'll find a way to leave you the information. You, at least, will have to believe me then."

* * *

He was in his room, a small, cold, dark place that he had slept in for nearly three years. It was barely furnished, but he did not need anything excessive. A hard bed carved out of the side of the wall, some blankets, and that was all. Sasuke had been living in a hole in the ground for the last three years. But he was not one to complain about such meaningless things.

He was resting his eyes and going through the plan that he had been cultivating ever since he'd arrived in Orochimaru's lair. The respect he had for his instructor had long plunged into the subzero, but he had to admit that he'd learned a tremendous amount from Orochimaru, and at a pace that no one in Konoha could have ever offered him. Sometimes, Sasuke thought back to Kakashi and the effort Kakashi had poured into him to learn Chidori, but that was back when Sasuke was weak of both heart and body. Ever since he'd cast aside the concept of friends, his determination to grow strong regardless of the means had powered his improvement in leaps and bounds. He doubted Kakashi would stand a chance against him now.

Karin, Suigetsu, and Juugo. That would be his team. And they would be called Hebi. Snake. A vile but terribly clever animal, slinking on its stomach as it pierced its targets when they least expected it. Itachi would never know what hit him.

Truthfully, Sasuke wished that Miho had remained in Orochimaru's confinement. He would have liberated her, would have employed her instead of Karin because Miho was seized with the same passion that Sasuke was, the same hatred for the same man. Karin was excellent, there was no denying it. Orochimaru had crafted her to be almost like a Miho 2.0, but while Karin had some personality traits and areas that Miho bested her in, even Sasuke could not deny that Karin's distance-sensing exceeded Miho's, and distance was what Sasuke required. Still, it irked Sasuke that Miho had somehow escaped Orochimaru's grasp. Sasuke had a good idea of how it happened, but the details were unclear and he assumed that after falling into Akatsuki hands, the organization had disposed of her. Her escape was a topic Orochimaru hated, and dry and sarcastic though Sasuke was, he knew sometimes that it was better to leave some things unsaid. It was a shame that Sasuke had missed the opportunity to team up with her. He'd said a brief, monotonous prayer for her memory, and forgot her after that.

But then, over a year ago, Orochimaru had returned to base one night after a week of unexplained absence; he was writhing in pain, covered in a black flame that Sasuke found strangely familiar. Kabuto had sealed the flame and then healed Orochimaru, but while Orochimaru had been in agony, he'd uttered names that bewildered Sasuke.

Itachi. And Chiaki Miho.

Why would they be together? How was Miho still alive? Was it possible that Itachi and Miho were…allies now?

Sasuke never got the answers, partially because he convinced himself that he did not care what the hell Miho did, but also because Akatsuki was obscenely hard to track without a team to do the work for him. There were rumors of Akatsuki presence in every village possible, and Sasuke had neither the motivation nor the power to follow up on every rumor. Besides, now was not the time. He was not strong enough to fight Itachi—not yet, anyway. And he did not have a team.

Sasuke could tell that Orochimaru was getting impatient. The three years was almost up, and Sasuke often caught Orochimaru looking at him with disgusting longing and lust. It sent shivers down Sasuke's spine—Orochimaru did not deserve the perfect body of the Uchiha. He was but a pathetic excuse of a man who was so terrified of death that his only goal was immortality and perfection that he could never achieve.

Soon. It would be soon. Sasuke merely needed to wait a little longer.

And Uchiha Itachi would soon be dead.

* * *

_free talk_:

and the wheel continues to turn, and itachi's looming death leers closer.  
sorry for the wait, guys. :) thank you for being patient and for your reviews last time. as it is late right now, i will write the LJ post for this chapter tomorrow.  
thanks again to wingedmercury for her help.  
in the meantime, i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. i admit that writing itachi's first response to miho was quite possibly my favorite part of writing this fic thus far. i was glad to have itachi finally yield some ground and admit how burdened he felt; that letter flowed very naturally and i found writing it incredibly easy. i'll go ahead and say that there will be more letters from itachi, and i'm anticipating writing them. please look forward to them. :)

hope you're all doing well, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!  
xoxo,  
m.n


	23. They Say Love is Blind

**Chapter 23: They Say Love is Blind**

Itachi was resting in a bed for the first time in several weeks. Staking out Suna was hard work, given that a sandstorm was perpetually brewing in the horizon and the new Kazekage was more than formidable. Not that he would give Itachi or Kisame any particular difficulty should things come to an actual skirmish, but the Kazekage was young and well, while Itachi was not. He knew that his strength was slowly decreasing.

Rather, it was not that he knew his strength was decreasing—it was more like he ensured it. The pills and medicinal recommendations that Miho had prescribed him were stashed away, untouched, in a white plastic container tucked in the depths of Itachi's belongings. The time was drawing near for Sasuke to begin his move, but even after three years, Itachi doubted that he could fool Sasuke into believing that he was putting up a fight if he was fully recovered. Miho's treatment was always alarmingly successful, and after the last treatment back in Kirigakure, Itachi had the slightest feeling that he would be completely cured the next time he saw Miho.

Which was not according to plan.

He could not believe the temptations that Fate kept throwing at him. First, it was Miho's return from the dead. A reminder that someone he thought he'd killed was actually well and alive. With her return came an influx of old memories, a recollection of the past, the hint of a possibility…but Miho hated him, just like Sasuke did, and Itachi was fine with that—he deserved to be hated, he _wanted_ to be hated so there would be nothing tugging him to remain alive.

But then the second twist came: Miho still loved him. And it wasn't even a hesitant love that came only after knowing The Truth—it was a completely blind, unconditional love that he—no, a love that no one deserved. Miho was the epitome of irony: the worst shinobi to the village but the best to the ones she loved in turn. No one in the shinobi world deserved her care because it was foolhardy and destined for tragedy. Yet a voice in the back of his head that he'd long buried suddenly revived, and it kept urging him—perhaps he was making a mistake, maybe he _could_ live, maybe he deserved it…and it grew with every passing second in Miho's presence. The times when they were together, far away from Konoha, Akatsuki, disease and responsibility; Miho was his cure and curse all in one.

But disease was disease, and Itachi convinced himself that the handholding and kisses and sex and love were all transient; his body was deteriorating and the Mangekyou use exacerbated it. He had managed to hide his debilitating eyesight from Miho—he had his heart to thank for that, for a heart disease was more important than blindness—but he knew that in more ways than one, light was slowly disappearing from his life. There would be no way to stop it. He was resigned to this fact—he would die of this disease but at the hands of Sasuke, and his life would be complete in ignominy. The greatest, most hated, but most perfect shinobi to walk on the face of the planet.

And then Miho tempted him again. She could cure his disease. She _would_ cure him.

When she had told him, he thought his heart would stop. If he could be healthy, then what exactly was his excuse for dying other than pure self-sacrifice?

_Of course_, reminded his conscience. _That's all you are, that's all you've ever wanted to be. The scapegoat, the hated one while Sasuke triumphed in glory. That's who you _are_; this is what you deserve because no matter the reason, you are a murderer who killed your own family. You remember your parents' dying wish, Itachi—it was to protect Sasuke, and this is what you are doing. Miho is just an obstacle; she is a temptation, but she is not what you live for. _

He knew this. He knew it all.

Yet.

Yet.

Yet.

He wanted to live. Even if it was just for a little longer, even if it was just so he could play pretend. He no longer wanted to play the life of a sacrifice.

He knew this. He knew he could not live to what he wanted.

He knew that if he saw Miho again, she would cure him, and he would have no reason to die.

And so he made his resolution.

* * *

The notes were piling up. She knew she was risking much, especially when Danzou and the other elders were on her tail. But she never left behind any proof, and no one could effectively tail her if she truly wanted to run. Miho used the antagonism between Danzou and Tsunade to her advantage. It was not difficult for Tsunade to prefer Miho to Danzou. Miho was an intelligent, youthful woman with much more in common with Tsunade than a bitter, cruel man who was eternally resentful of the Senju.

Tsunade never trusted Miho fully—Miho could tell from the way her chakra flowed that Tsunade was ready to split Miho's head open if she made the slightest suspicious move. Yet that was all precautionary—Miho was not interested in harming the Hokage or Konoha. She needed answers, and Tsunade could give her at least one.

Yet what Miho was not prepared for was the deeply intuitive and somewhat intimate questions that Tsunade posed for her. For some reason, Miho found it very hard to lie to Tsunade. Perhaps it was because Tsunade seemed to know whenever Miho's heart rate quickened, and therefore Miho was not terribly inclined to lie when she knew Tsunade could kill her in a split second.

The two of them worked together once a week, sifting through medical reports and complicated patient records that the hospital directors could not diagnose. Tsunade trusted Miho's medical knowledge without much hesitation, and the two of them would eat a meal over a pile of memos from the diagnostic team. All this, of course, was supervised with ANBU members stationed outside the door, but it was as close to privacy as they could get without Tsunade winning the award for stupidest Hokage in the history of Konoha.

It had been almost four months since Miho had returned to Konoha. She and Tsunade were at their weekly meeting, looking over notes.

"I think his problems are mostly neurological," said Miho as she scanned a packet briefly. "Though his symptoms are physiological, I'm inclined to believe that—"

"I'd like to know what the connection is between you and Uchiha Itachi," said Tsunade suddenly.

Miho stopped and looked up. Tsunade's expression betrayed no malice—she looked, if anything, merely inquisitive. Her chakra, on the other hand, was edging terribly close to execution. A significant amount of chakra had concentrated in Tsunade's right palm, and Miho knew that with one swift motion, Tsunade could send her crashing through all four floors of the hospital and more.

"Don't you want to know what I'm inclined to believe about this patient?" said Miho weakly.

"I don't particularly care," said Tsunade airily. "You think it's a tumor pressing on his brainstem—it's a tricky surgery but not a difficult diagnosis. My question is a little more complicated than that."

"…Why exactly are you asking me this now?" said Miho coolly.

"Because Akatsuki is a burgeoning weight on my shoulders and you happen to be closely affiliated to one particular man in that organization," replied Tsunade. "Kakashi also might abide to your wishes in hiding your activity from the councilmen and Danzou, but he's surprisingly open with me. You are not the only one who trusts him completely. He's alerted me that you're interested in the Uchiha massacre. I understand why, but there are holes in my profile of you that can only be filled once I have a better understanding of your and Itachi's relationship. Kakashi has been kind enough to tell me the skeleton of details, but I'd like to hear it from you personally."

"…This is a topic I don't enjoy discussing," said Miho, her face expressionless.

"Understandably so," answered Tsunade in the same fashion, "but forgive me if I don't really care for what you do or don't enjoy."

"So who am I speaking with?" said Miho after a slight pause. "The Hokage, a medic, or a woman who knows what it's like to have everyone she's ever cared for ripped away from her?"

Tsunade's eyes widened at this last suggestion. For a second, Miho thought that the Hokage would kill her on the spot, but the chakra remained contained in Tsunade's right palm, even decreasing slightly when Tsunade finally responded.

"Those three are not easily teased apart."

"But my answers for each of them are very different," said Miho steadfastly.

Tsunade took some time before she spoke. "Then I am speaking to you as the Hokage."

"Fine," said Miho. "Uchiha Itachi was a childhood…friend. My father adored him. Initially, I was unbearably jealous of him. He won me over. We became good friends. Until he stabbed me and left me to die. My eternal hatred for him was therefore born. The end."

"That tells me nothing," said Tsunade irritably.

"Because the Hokage of Konoha deserves absolutely nothing from me," retorted Miho, eyes flashing. She did not know why she felt so incensed with the inquiry.

"Konoha has been more than—"

"No," she snapped, unable to control herself. "Konoha has not been kind to me. Hatake Kakashi has been ridiculously kind to me. _You_ yourself may have been good to me. But you are not Konoha. And this village does not yet deserve anything I have to offer it beyond my medical knowledge."

A chilling silence fell between them. She knew that she had done the stupidest thing she could've managed to do—piss off the Hokage—but at the moment, Miho didn't care. Years of hatred and abandonment flooded her thoughts, and no matter how irrational they were, she could not stop them—where had Konoha been when Orochimaru took her body—where had they been when she'd first been experimented on—where had they been for every torture and experiment—and then again when Akatsuki had found her—

Something in her expression must've betrayed Miho, for Tsunade seemed to relax after studying her.

"We didn't know, Chiaki Miho," she said, as if guessing the accusations Miho was silently throwing at her.

"I know," said Miho coldly. "But that doesn't warrant any cooperation on my part."

"So then why are you here?" said Tsunade. "You want to find out what had happened with the Uchiha massacre? And then what? Will some answer satiate your revenge? Or will it just pull you back to Uchiha Itachi, the man you've thrown everything away for?"

When she saw that Miho made no inclination to reply, Tsunade sighed and leaned forward in her chair.

"I'm speaking to you as the woman who knows how it feels to lose everything you thought you've ever lived for," said Tsunade gently. "And I'm saying that the fate of one man does not guarantee your happiness. Whether he lives or dies—you'll realize that your life can continue peacefully regardless of his."

Tsunade was wrong.

So terribly wrong.

Maybe it was because Miho was just not as strong—physically or emotionally. But she could not bear to live if Itachi died.

"Why do you want to profile me?" she asked.

"…Because Kakashi has asked me to try my best and keep you here in Konoha," said Tsunade heavily. "I can't guarantee him that because I don't know what you could do to this village. I need to make sure you're not here to harm anyone here, but honestly, this conversation has not been that helpful in convincing me."

"I'm not here to harm Konoha," said Miho seriously. "You can rest assured of that. It's not like I enjoy hurting others."

"Then I need some information," said Tsunade. "I need to know that your allegiance still lies here, at home, and not with some psychopath."

Miho barely reined in a hiss. She herself had called Itachi a psychopath more than once, but she could not stand to hear a stranger accuse him of the only thing that riled him.

"I won't hurt Konoha," said Miho in a steely tone. "I'll tell you what you want to know about Itachi. A little bit about Akatsuki, even."

Tsunade's eyes flickered. "Really? Then—"

"In return," interrupted Miho, "I need you some answers from you."

"…Depends on what you need."

"It's related to Orochimaru. About why he sought you out to regenerate his arms."

Tsunade arched an eyebrow. "What? Why? That's not what I was expecting."

"He only looked for you because I was unable to cure him," said Miho sedately. "While he went to find you, I was chained up in his dungeon."

Tsunade's face twisted. So she had seen Miho's interrogation.

"I want to know the solution to the one problem I couldn't solve," she continued. "It's a matter of personal pride as a physician."

"And that's it?" said Tsunade skeptically. "That's all you want to know? And in return, you'll tell me what I want to know about you and Uchiha Itachi, as well as Akatsuki?"

Miho scoffed. "It's not like I'm fond of Akatsuki, really. I'll tell you right now that they're planning something for Sunagakure. That it'll involve the Kazekage."

Tsunade visibly stiffened. "How long have you known this?"

"A week, two weeks," she said nonchalantly.

"And you never thought to mention this?" snapped the Hokage.

"Suna hasn't done much for me either, honestly," said Miho indifferently.

Miho knew she was pressing her boundaries, but she still hadn't quite forgiven Tsunade for calling Itachi a psychopath.

Tsunade grimaced. "What are they planning?"

"I'm not positive," said Miho honestly. "I know they're going to launch an attack. That's about all I know."

Tsunade frowned. "Very well. I'll look into it. In the meantime, tell me about Itachi."

"…I'm not really sure what you want to know. He's as intelligent as reports say. A genius in his own right."

"I know all that," said Tsunade shortly. "I'm asking what he's like to _you_."

Miho bit her lip. "I don't know why you have to know. He's just…he's not a psychopath." Judging from Tsunade's expression, she did not believe Miho. Miho let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not like I can explain it. It's like…" She racked her brain for an analogy. "I know you had someone you loved. Who was killed. What was his name?"

Tsunade looked wary. "…Dan. His name was Dan."

"Right," said Miho. The name was not the point. "Imagine Dan. Imagine you and Dan. Dan was someone who loved his village. Would put it above anything. And…and he loved his family too. But the village…something about it…no matter what. It was always the village." Miho looked away from the woman sitting across from her. "Imagine that…that you and Dan started off disliking each other. Or that it was primarily you who disliked him. And yet somehow…he managed to work his way in. And then…you managed to do the same. And soon you realized that…that the boy you thought was the perfect shinobi actually wanted nothing more than to be a normal person."

Tsunade's expression seemed to shift slightly, but Miho was not looking at her. She didn't know what she was doing, but she wanted Tsunade to understand—that in the event that Konoha found Itachi, Tsunade would gain something from this confession and believe that there was more to Itachi than his criminal record. Because the longer Miho stayed in Konoha, the more she began to believe that a peaceful resolution was possible—that maybe once she found out The Truth, she could finally understand the reason behind Itachi's apparent evilness, and that she could convince him to stop, to rely on her, to maybe come back to Konoha and the roots of their heritage. That the future of living in blissful ignorance was not entirely impossible once she healed him. Once the Hokage gave Itachi her pardon.

"The months leading up to the massacre…" said Miho quietly, "he wasn't the same. We were on and off. He kept trying to push me away, and yet somehow we always managed to gravitate back to each other. When…when his cousin…passed…something in Itachi seemed to break. He stopped trying to push me away. It was the only time that Itachi seemed vulnerable to me, yet…" Miho scoffed. "Now that I think about it, he's never opened up to me. He never wanted to talk about what was weighing him down—I only know it was something with his family, some kind of conflict between his familial allegiance and Konoha."

"But you never would've guessed that he would kill his entire family, did you?"

Miho stayed silent. No, she would have guessed it. She _had_ guessed it, after Itachi had killed Shisui. But that was something Tsunade could not know.

No, what she would never had guessed was that Itachi would kill _her_.

This realization—this selfish, fundamentally terrible realization—caused a low, sick swooping feeling in her stomach. She thought Itachi would never hurt her. She thought she knew.

And even now, she thought Itachi wouldn't hurt her, but her experiences told her otherwise. Itachi could maim her and torture her without a second's notice, but maybe it was because she knew that it made him feel like the lowest form of garbage that she did not consider this ability a real issue.

She was certifiably out of her mind.

"Miho?" prompted Tsunade after an adequate amount of waiting.

"No," lied Miho. "I didn't."

"I see." Tsunade seemed to buy it. "Then what now? He's different now, isn't he?"

"Perhaps," she said. "He is cruel. He makes me hate him."

"He _makes_ you?" repeated Tsunade disbelievingly.

"I…" She paused. "The majority of the time, I feel a great deal of antagonism towards him. As if ripping his head off would be the best feeling in the world." These were all lies now, but she didn't have to go far to make it convincing—all she had to think about was the time Itachi had stabbed her in the leg, and a fresh wave of fury fueled her speech. "But…I need to make sure. I need to make sure before I kill him that I am not making a mistake. Because I know that once he's dead, I have absolutely no reason to continue living."

Tsunade seemed disturbed and opened her mouth to say something, but Miho cut her off.

"I'm not like you," she said. "I'm not as strong as you—I've never had much of a will to live. I've never loved Konoha with as much passion as I should. The reason I'm alive now is because Itachi is alive. No matter what I feel for him—hatred or something else—it doesn't make a difference. The fact remains that once he dies, I die. I don't have a reason to live otherwise."

"…And does he know all this?" asked Tsunade.

Miho smiled wryly. "I've never said it aloud. But he's a smart guy. I'm sure he's known for a long time."

* * *

_Itachi, I talked with Tsunade today. I think I'm close to finding the cure. I'm not as close to finding the reason behind the massacre but I think the rest of the answers lie with you. I'm ready to leave Konoha as soon as I learn the regeneration technique. Let me know what I'm supposed to do to get out of here._

_Itachi, it's been a long time since I last heard from you. Is everything okay?_

_Seriously, Itachi, reply me. I'm getting worried. _

_Itachi. If you don't reply soon, I'm sending a crow and finding you myself._

There was not a response.

* * *

One of the worst feelings in the world was the sense of being abandoned. Miho tried to suppress this notion as the weeks began to slip by quickly without a single word from Itachi. She could not move from Konoha until she got the cure from Tsunade, yet the longer she stayed, the more danger she was in.

There was nothing more to be gained from the Konoha archives. Miho had gone over them extensively multiple times, and the only thing she could deduce from them was that there had been a strange but extremely significant tension between Konoha and its own police force, one that had forced the Uchiha clan to be confined into their own corner of the village. While she could see how the Uchiha clan had its fanatics about pureblood clan superiority, they couldn't have been enough to warrant any serious danger. The thought of some form of rebellion passed by her, but it seemed silly to forgo centuries of peace merely for the Uchiha to flatter their own egos. It also did not explain why Itachi, an Uchiha, would kill his own family. She was missing a detail—an impetus, some kind of reason that she knew only Itachi could provide.

In the meantime as she waited, things were shifting quickly. After three years of training with Jiraiya, Naruto had returned to the village, much to the delight of the villagers. He was quickly dispatched on a mission with Sakura and two others—thank goodness not Kakashi—to retrieve Sasuke from Orochimaru's lair. Miho did not mention to them that they had no chance of beating Orochimaru, and that Sasuke had gone to Orochimaru on his own free will and would most likely not be convinced to return. Likewise, she remained silent despite knowing that the three-year period between Orochimaru's body changes was quickly drawing to a close. With it meant several possibilities: Orochimaru would take over Sasuke's body—this was an option Miho chose not to think about, given its disgusting implications—or Sasuke would somehow worm his way out of that predicament, mobilize his own team, and begin his hunt for Itachi.

This was an option that worried Miho as well. Itachi was not in the best of health, and after three years, Sasuke would be a formidable opponent. Before the brothers clashed, she needed to ensure that Itachi was completely healed, or Itachi's death was a possibility—one that she could not afford. Which was why Itachi's apparent determination to avoid her was simultaneously infuriating and concerning.

Naruto's mission to retrieve Sasuke predictably ended in failure. What Miho had not anticipated was how quickly Akatsuki attacked Sunagakure, causing Kakashi and his former team to be dispatched this time. Their exchange before his departure was unbearably morbid.

"Be careful, Kakashi," said Miho as she watched Kakashi prepare his things.

"It's Akatsuki—of course I'll be careful."

He was brusque. She could tell that he was uneasy, not with the mission, but with her allegiance.

"Feel free to kill any of them," she said.

Kakashi scoffed. "Even if it's Itachi?"

"It won't be him."

Kakashi stared at her.

"How much do you know?" he demanded.

"Relax," she answered coolly. "I've told the Hokage everything I know."

"Including who the attackers are? We've heard that the Kazekage has been abducted and his brother is in crucial condition—if you know anything that will help us—"

"Suna knows more than I do," said Miho smoothly. "As long as Sakura goes with you, the brother will survive. I don't know where they've taken the Kazekage. Akatsuki and I were not on that good terms."

"I see." He turned to leave.

"If you're so angry with me, why did you let me come over?" she said sordidly.

"It's better to have you directly in my line of sight than for you to stab me in the dark."

Miho appeared directly in front of him as he made a movement to exit the apartment.

"I wouldn't," she said icily, "ever hurt you."

She was not accustomed to Kakashi's cold side. It frightened her, but she betrayed none of her fear and stared at him resolutely.

"You know that," she said simply.

He stared at her for several minutes before finally heaving a sigh.

"I know," he said wearily. "I just wish your political standing didn't have to be so complicated."

"A bit difficult, given my circumstances, but I harbor no particular attachment to anyone in Akatsuki you'll encounter. Just be careful. They're stronger than Konoha seems to think they are."

"I understand. Likewise, Miho. Be careful with what you do or say."

"That's never been my strong suit."

"So I've realized," he said tiredly, reaching forward and patting her head. This gesture, which normally would've irritated her, relieved her. "All the same. I hope to see you in one piece when I return."

"…So do I."

* * *

It was the day Tsunade finally agreed to teach Miho the regeneration technique that everything went to hell.

The technique itself was simple. Genius. The idea was to amputate the dead tissue while simultaneously taking the surrounding living cells to infuse them with chakra, essentially causing them to undergo cell division at a highly amplified rate. The premise was to model what cancer cells technically did—accelerating cell proliferation while preventing apoptosis—but the control was what was incredibly difficult. It took Miho the good majority of the day practicing on rats and rabbits before she got the hang of it. She could tell that Tsunade was impressed with her progress and tried not to gloat—practicing on rabbits was very different from conducting the surgery on a live human patient. She would be cutting out pieces of Itachi's heart and re-growing it while hoping he wasn't going to die on the surgery table; it wasn't going to be so simple.

It was late when she finally left the hospital after giving Tsunade her thanks and mentally her goodbyes. She had no more reason to remain in Konoha. Itachi had not contacted her in nearly six weeks now—he was most likely avoiding her because he wanted to avoid his medicine, which meant that he had an agenda of his own and she was therefore on a strict timetable.

Miho packed everything quickly—there was not much for her to organize except for her traveling things. She always ensured that her notes were untraceable by sealing them away. She threw some supplies into a pack and was just about to head out the door when she froze in her tracks. All the chakra freely flowing around Konoha suddenly disappeared.

Miho willed herself under control. She was being blinded. Someone in Konoha had chakra barriers that could affect her. It was the most unsettling sensation possible.

She Summoned a thin sword and retreated back into the house, trying desperately not to think about Orochimaru. Damn the timing—if only she'd been several hours earlier, she would've gotten out of Konoha without a single problem.

Miho thought about running to the bedroom, where there was a window she could escape from. But the exit route was too simple—too easy. She needed to get to the roof.

Quickly, Miho went to the bathroom in the hallway, which had a window leading —small enough so that only a child could fit through it. She had her years of starvation to thank as she managed to slide through and flip herself upward, chakra balancing in her feet as she found her footing on the side of the wall and scaled toward the roof. She had no idea if someone was following her or waiting for her. The weakness of being a sensor was just how much she relied on this ability…she climbed to the top, propelled herself over the edge and crouched down low as she stabilized her footing on the shingles.

"You should not bother running," a voice said behind her.

"Shit," she hissed, turning around.

A man, most of his body bandaged but with one eye shining brightly with the Sharingan, approached her slowly. He was not one of the council members she recognized.

"I'm guessing you're Danzou," she said. "How do you have the Sharingan?"

"Manners, woman," he intoned.

"Like that's going to get me anywhere right now," she muttered. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You are well aware of why we have been following you since you arrived in Konoha," he stated. "The Godaime may be a fool, but do not take me to be an idiot of her caliber."

"The Godaime knows about everything I have been looking into," Miho said. "I have not broken any laws."

"Why the interest in the Uchiha massacre, Chiaki Miho?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I have every reason to be more than _interested_ in it."

"Do you?" said Danzou, now pacing. "A woman who has no allegiance to Konoha, no strength to provide to it, no ambitions of her own—only the pathetic ties that she holds to Uchiha Itachi—you believe you can comprehend the depth of what the Uchiha massacre represents?"

Miho caught her breath.

"You're right," he continued. "It was not a simple massacre. There is more than meets the eye. Yet you, Chiaki Miho…do not possess the eyes to understand this depth."

A figure beside her moved and Miho instantly ducked as a sword swiped mere centimeters above her head. She retaliated, her sword clanging against the Root member's fiercely as she parried blow for blow. She aimed one particularly level swipe, expected and felt the clash with steel and abruptly dropped her blade, sliding forward and plunging her hand into the shinobi's chest where she could feel the beating of his heart right under her fingertips. A mere pulse of chakra and she severed his aorta. She retracted her hand and he fell the ground, dead within seconds.

Danzou had answers and Miho wanted them. Desperately. But for once in her life, she was levelheaded enough not to stay—she did not have any idea as to how strong Danzou was, but she was outnumbered and chakra-blinded; her goal was to escape.

Perhaps Danzou had expected her to stay, because when Miho bounded off, she was unhindered for several miraculous seconds, far enough for her to escape the barriers and count that Danzou had brought four others with him. She frowned. Surely she was worth more than that for capture, especially when the one she had just killed had died so…easily.

Of course, arrogance was a sin and she should've known better. She found herself running but the scenery never changing. She knew Konoha's landscape, knew how long it would take for her to get to the edge of the village and escape.

Genjutsu had always been her weakness.

* * *

"You may end the genjutsu now."

The endless forestry of Konoha ended and Miho spiraled back to earth, exhausted beyond belief. Her head spun, her throat burned. A quick assessment of her physical state proved that she had been in a genjutsu for nearly three days. She blinked her eyes, assessing her situation; she was on her knees, staring at the ground, which was cracked, dry, and dusty. Nowhere close to Konoha. On her wrists were handcuffs, chakra suppressing.

Miho sat up slowly, digesting her surroundings. She froze.

"Hello, Miho," sneered Kabuto.

"What the _fuck_—" She got to her feet, but a sword appeared at her neck instantly.

"No sudden movements," a monotonous voice said behind her.

She turned around, finding no Danzou in the midst of masked members who had escorted her into the hands of one of Konoha's greatest enemies.

"And _this_ is what Danzou calls _allegiance to Konoha_?" she spat at them. "Dealing with _Orochimaru_?! For what? Chakra barriers?!"

"Oh, no," said Kabuto. "Those were supplied by Orochimaru-sama for the sole purpose of capturing you. Marvelously effective, those are. We've been planning this for a while—Danzou's last contact was accompanied by Naruto-kun. No, we had more…valuable things to provide in exchange for the woman whose blood may restock the supply that just ran out a week ago, actually."

"Shows you just how much I gave to you lot if it lasted that long," she snapped.

"Cheeky now, are you?" said Kabuto silkily. "It's always like this—takes a few weeks, but you'll be back to your docile self in no time…"

"I'm not going back," she said breathlessly, "there's no way, no _fucking way_."

"We have accomplished our mission," said the closest Root member. "Danzou-sama expects to hear from you soon."

"Of course," said Kabuto. "Thank you for your work."

The members disappeared behind her, leaving her and Kabuto alone. Her damn cuffs. She could beat Kabuto in a one-on-one if it weren't for the damn things.

"Why isn't Orochimaru here?" she said.

"He has better things to do than pick up runaway specimen, Miho."

"He's bedridden, isn't he?" she said, her eyes flashing triumphantly. "Time to recycle a body, is it?"

"Not just any body," said Kabuto.

"Sasuke."

"Of course. I can't say I'm not pleased to see it happen. Sasuke-kun has been…quite a handful. But enough of the chitchat, Miho. I can update you once you're back in your…cell."

"Kabuto, let me—"

"Go?" he smirked. "Why would I do that?"

She really had earned her one-way ticket back to hell.

* * *

Miho awoke in a cell, her hands chained, her chakra surprisingly not blinded, and more than anything, alone. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Being alone in a cell was much better than anything she would've expected.

Miho coughed, feeling the strongest desire to throw up utterly nothing. She could not deny that every bone in her body was shaking with fear—this was the worst possible situation. Itachi had no idea she was here and not in Konoha. When she thought of him, the bile seemed to lodge in her throat. Damn the man. How he had not contacted her for nearly two months—if he had died, Konoha would have surely gotten the news. No, he was being an ass, and because of it, she was in the worst predicament possible.

She breathed in deeply and thought. The fact that Kabuto had not taken the time to torture her right off the bat showed that Orochimaru was very close to transitioning, and therefore required Kabuto's full attention. Perhaps that also explained the lack of chakra barriers. She closed her eyes and expanded her range, finding Kabuto and Orochimaru's fleeting chakra in a wing west to where she was. There were not too many people around. Orochimaru must have wanted his vulnerable state to be known to as little people as possible.

Then, slowly approaching the left wing where Orochimaru and Kabuto were came another chakra signature, one that Miho knew very well, one that she was amazed to sense its growth.

Sasuke.

This was her lifeline—Sasuke would not abandon her, but did he even know she was here? Was Orochimaru changing bodies now? What if she took over Sasuke's body? Did he know, or was he walking into a trap?

Sasuke's chakra joined Orochimaru's as Kabuto's left. Several minutes passed, and she could sense Orochimaru's chakra signature flicker. He was agitated, weakened, while Sasuke remained surprisingly passive. The only emotion that Miho could discern from Sasuke's perfectly controlled chakra was anticipation. Orochimaru's fleeting chakra suddenly swelled and Miho held her breath; she would be able to tell if Orochimaru managed to complete the transition, for his chakra signature would overwhelm Sasuke's…she braced herself for it, waiting for the two chakra to melt into one…

They didn't. In a mere matter of seconds, Sasuke's chakra spiked and Orochimaru's seemed to disappear completely. When Sasuke's chakra returned to normal, Miho could not sense Orochimaru at all. Miho breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know if Orochimaru was completely dead—she doubted it—but at least for the time being, he was gone. After years of endless bad luck, perhaps she was being rewarded and she would get out of this jail cell easier than she thought.

Sasuke did not linger. He began to migrate in Miho's direction, where he was joined briefly by Kabuto. Sasuke's chakra swelled again—hopefully he was mentally torturing Kabuto with some awful genjutsu—and then he made his way past Kabuto, drawing closer to Miho's cell.

She did the only thing she could.

"Sasuke!"

His chakra signature paused.

"Sasuke, the door to your left! Open it!"

There were two slashes, and the door fell down in pieces. Sasuke entered, his Sharingan positively glowing in the dark. He seemed surprised to see her, but much like his brother, emotions only showed so much on his face.

"…What are you doing here?" he asked.

"It's a long story," she said, relieved that her escape route had come so conveniently. "Mind getting me out of these chains?"

He walked over to her and swiped twice; his aim was impeccable, and the cuffs clinked open. Miho brought her wrists down and massaged them as she got to her feet. Sasuke had grown over the last three years; he now stood a full head taller than her, and upon closer analysis, Miho could measure his strength to be greater than hers. She contained a scoff. Uchiha. Geniuses, every last one of them.

"What are you doing here?" Sasuke repeated. "I thought Akatsuki had taken you."

She looked at him curiously. "Did Orochimaru tell you that?"

"Not directly," he said impassively. "I overheard him a couple years ago when he came back from the Land of Mist. He was covered black flames and was screaming something about you and…Itachi." Sasuke's eyes burned brighter. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," said Miho honestly, wary of Sasuke's intensity. "I've been in Konoha for several months now."

"You escaped from Akatsuki?"

She nodded in response.

"To Konoha? Away from Itachi?"

Miho's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

The cold steel of Sasuke's blade pressed against her neck. Her skin prickled into gooseflesh but she maintained her composure.

"I'm not implying," he said icily. "If you're lying, I will rip your head off. _Where's Itachi_?"

"I told you. I don't know," she hissed. "You can ask Kabuto—he just managed to get me from Konoha in some twisted trade with Danzou. I've been living in Konoha for the last three months, Sasuke, and I have no hell of an idea where Itachi is."

"Why would you run _away_ from him?" he scoffed. "He was right there, under your nose where you could've killed him at any second. Don't you still hate him? Is he not the only reason you're alive—why would you give that up and _run away_?"

Miho snorted. "I think you're underestimating Itachi."

"I'm not."

"Then you're overestimating me," she said chillingly. "I don't have the capacity to kill Itachi, but the rest of Akatsuki sure liked to remind me that they had every capacity to kill me. I ran when I had the chance, Sasuke, and I don't regret it."

"You're a coward."

She smirked. "And you're a fool."

Sasuke grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall. Her head felt like it had split open, but she immediately brought her hands to Sasuke's arm and forced as much chakra into it as she could. His grip loosened but not before he threw her to the opposite side of the room. She had disrupted the chakra flow in his right arm enough to hamper his strength, so she luckily did not go slamming into the wall behind her. She straightened up, breathing harshly as her head throbbed, but she concentrated chakra into her hands, readying herself for any additional onslaught.

"Quite a temper you have now," she said frostily. "Takes after your master."

"Don't call that vile snake my _master_. He was a tool. A stepping stone," Sasuke snarled. "You don't think I can beat Itachi?"

"…And my opinion mattered since when?" she said dryly.

"You've been with him—you know how strong he is."

"And my answer will only serve to piss you off more, and I like my head in one piece, thanks."

"So you don't think I can."

Sasuke's every word, every move seemed rash and uncontrolled. His quick temper had curdled into something much more dangerous, for no one could deny that over the last three years, Sasuke had improved tremendously. Despite his emotionless face, he was practically emanating hatred and irrationality with every movement; briefly in Sasuke, Miho saw herself, and she felt something for him, a conglomerate of emotions, one that she now understood to be the same thing that Kakashi felt for her. Itachi had ruined them, ruined them both. No matter that Sasuke felt a blind hatred and Miho felt a blind love—Itachi consumed them both, fueled their existences, and gave them no payment in return. Seeing Sasuke, Miho understood the futility of the life that Kakashi had been trying to gear her away from. Sasuke was unhinged, automatically breaking the closest object that was related to Itachi.

It was pitiful.

"I've been doing some research," she said, unsure of where she was going with the conversation. Talking to Sasuke was as effective as talking to a rampant bull, but maybe something would click.

"I don't care," seethed Sasuke. "Tell me everything you know about Itachi."

"About the Uchiha massacre," she said.

Sasuke's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because I have reason to believe that Itachi is not all that he seems," she said quietly.

Sasuke scoffed. "All that he seems? He's a fucking psychopath. He killed my parents. He killed _your_ father. He tortured me and made me relive that night over and over again! What else can he be than the psychopath he is?!"

"And don't you think that a psychopath is the farthest thing your brother ever was?" she demanded. "The brother who raised you and trained you, you don't think for a second that something about the massacre is wrong?!"

"Everything about the massacre is wrong!" Sasuke shouted. "My whole fucking family was murdered at the hands of my own brother and only I was left alive—that's what's wrong! And if you think otherwise, then you're a traitor, you're on Itachi's side, and—" Sasuke paused suddenly, as if he had finally understood something. Several seconds of silence passed before Sasuke spoke again, his every word burning and deadly.

"You're on Itachi's side."

Miho braced herself. "I'm…"

Sasuke moved so fast that the chakra Miho sensed was an aftereffect. He grabbed her throat and was prepared to snap it when Miho made the seal for a Kage Bunshin and the Miho Sasuke killed only disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Tell me where he is!" bellowed Sasuke as he rushed toward her.

"I already told you I don't know!" she shouted back as she leapt upward, dodging the swipe of his sword. "And killing me sure isn't going to help you find him!"

Sasuke was furious and his chakra easy to read. Miho knew each physical move before he executed it, but she possessed no Sharingan and could not read his seals as he made them. Twice she dodged Katon large enough to blow the wall behind her into pieces. It worked out well for her, for she ducked out of these holes and, following the flow of chakra, found her way to the closest exit, Sasuke close behind her.

She made it outside, relieved to find that it was daylight. They were at a base she was unfamiliar with, but no matter—the only chakra she could sense were underground, meaning she could make a break for any direction. She chose north and began her flight as swiftly as she could. There was no point fighting Sasuke, and any effort spent on stalling him would only be effort wasted. Running from him was a simple matter—she only had to get far enough from his line of sight so that he could no longer see her chakra, and then he would never be able to trace her.

Sasuke knew this as well. Just as she was going to disappear from his sight, she heard him shout.

"I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill him, and then I'm going to kill you for forgetting that he took everything away from us, you traitor!"

Miho suppressed a shudder and increased her speed to maximum. She mentally said her thanks to Sasuke, for escaping Orochimaru's lair would've never been that easy, even if Sasuke had thrown her against a few walls and had called her the one word that shook her roots.

Traitor, she was. A traitor to Konoha, to Kakashi, to Tsunade despite their kindness. A traitor to her father, to his memory. Traitor, she would be, to everything she had ever believed in, if she did not get answers from Itachi soon.

* * *

The moment Orochimaru died, Itachi sensed something odd. He did not mention it to Kisame or the rest of Akatsuki because he was not certain, but if it were true, only Sasuke would be capable of such a feat. Itachi felt a bit of relief. Sasuke was not so weak after all.

He and Kisame were stationed between Konoha and Iwagakure, of which the latter location was where the Yonbi was hiding. Kisame had made it clear that he would handle the Yonbi alone, but the Jinchuuriki was adept at hiding, leading much of the reconnaissance effort to Itachi. The work was tedious but not difficult, for which Itachi was grateful. He had not taken any medications regularly for over six weeks; the effect had taken its toll, as he could sometimes physically feel the chakra accumulate in his heart and lungs. Sometimes, the coughing fits were so severe that he was throwing up blood, and only in these instances did Itachi force himself to take one of Miho's pills as emergency treatment.

He did not pretend that he did not miss her. He opened the one journal that he could access often, reading over their letters to each other, sometimes reading the very old entries from the years before the massacres. Though he knew the location of every misspelt word, the placement of every comma and period, each perforation of ink and thought, he opened the journal often, feeling a fresh pang of guilt with every new entry. _Itachi, where the fuck are you_, read the most recent one from only one day prior. _Tons of shit just happened and I am on the run—if you don't tell me where the fuck you are, I'll kill you the moment I find you if I don't get killed first_.

Empty threats, he convinced himself. If Miho was on the run from Konoha, she could never be caught. There was no way she was in any actual danger, and as long as he hid himself well, she would never find him. He wished that she would have gotten the message and stayed in Konoha, but he should have known better. Guilt upon guilt, now, building up to unknown heights. He had caused her more trouble—too much now. Yet he could not contact her, could not see her, no matter how much he wanted to. He could not afford her interference, now that his death was drawing so close. Sasuke had killed Orochimaru, and it would be mere weeks now until he found Akatsuki and found him…

Itachi found himself thinking about death, preparing himself to welcome it with open arms. This life was worth living, he convinced himself. Sasuke and Konoha—those were the two elements of his life that he was meant to protect. His little brother, the sole heir of the Uchiha, his clan, his family, the family he'd loved and the family he'd slaughtered. And the village, the village he was sworn to protect, the village that had raised him and shown him the true meaning of peace.

Where Miho stood between these two elements was unclear. Itachi would not die for Miho, not if Sasuke or Konoha were in danger. Any other situation, perhaps, but no such situation would ever present itself, for everything that Itachi did was for his brother or his village. Every other action, he did for himself, because he deserved at least something in this otherwise pathetic life, and he chose Miho to be that something. Now that his life was soon to expire, her usefulness had also expired.

Selfish, stupid, cruel. But he did not dwell on it.

Two days after what Itachi presumed to be Orochimaru's death, he and Kisame returned to their quarters late at night. Their housing consisted of a small wooden cabin in the middle of the forest, deserted and near the contact point for Akatsuki meetings. It was raining—the Land of Stone had more rain than Itachi appreciated—and Itachi's body ached with every step. Every breath he took was laborious, and sometimes, he found himself blinking and seeing black dots.

Kisame suspected nothing, for he was gloating that they had finally located the Yonbi's location in the mountains behind the village itself. One of Itachi's Bunshin was following the Yonbi closely, and he had finally pinpointed the Yonbi's location. Kisame met Itachi at the edge of the village and the two of them returned to the cabin. Itachi would rest, while Kisame would shoulder Samehada and set off for the Yonbi immediately.

As they approached their cabin, Itachi was surprised to find light shining through the curtained window.

"…Odd," remarked Kisame. "I thought we put out the lamp."

"We left at noon," said Itachi wearily, his body screaming for rest. "The lamp was not on to begin with."

They remained outside for several seconds.

"Could be some weary traveler," said Kisame. "His loss—I say we kill him."

"It could be shinobi," warned Itachi. "We shouldn't act hastily."

"You tell me if you can sense any chakra—there's no way it's a shinobi."

It clicked for Itachi, perhaps a little later than it should have. He turned around.

"We're leaving," he said sharply, "immediately."

"What—why?"

"Because—"

He should've known that it was futile—from this close, Miho would be able to sense both him and Kisame. Itachi silently cursed Kisame's gargantuan chakra; there was no way Miho could have tracked them this easily had it not been for his ridiculous arsenal…

Miho appeared in front of them, blocking Itachi from his path.

Kisame seemed surprised.

"If it isn't crazy girl," he grinned. "How the hell did you—"

Miho moved so quickly that Itachi seemed to hear the slap after he felt it sting. Immediately, Kisame unsheathed Samehada and brought it to Miho's neck.

"What are you doing, crazy girl?" he said, his good-natured humor disappearing.

"Crazy girl, that I am," she said, her eyes flickering to Kisame. "I'm done. Get him inside before I rip his barely functional heart out of his body right now."

"What are you talking about?" said Kisame, bewildered. "I thought you sent him medication—he hasn't been having any trouble."

"Then that just means he got that much better at hiding it," said Miho, her eyes flashing. "Get inside, Itachi. Now."

"…I underestimated you, once again," said Itachi, relenting and heading back to the warmth of the cabin that he truthfully wanted nothing more than to bask in. His ache had now become a constant throb, and he could barely hide the pain. "How did you know which direction to go?"

She ignored him, though her anger seemed nearly tangible.

"How did you know where we were staying?" Kisame asked instead.

"Intuition," was Miho's curt reply. "Only housing within a one mile radius of the village's borders, and I could sense the precautionary chakra detectors around it. It had a familiar signature—not too hard to put it together."

"Impressive," said Kisame. "Down to the detectors."

Itachi privately agreed and wanted to voice this aloud in hopes that such flattery would massage Miho's ego enough to dissuade her anger, but she seemed to know what he was thinking. She glared at him, as if daring him to speak, so he refrained.

Itachi hung up his cloak at the doorway while Kisame lingered outside.

"Glad you're here," he said to Miho. "Dunno why Itachi wanted to run the other way, but I'm not gonna stay in between a lovers' quarrel. I'll be back with the Yonbi. In the meantime, don't kill him, girl."

"You can rest assured," she said, her every word icy with fury, "that I'll do my best."

Kisame gave a grin, clearly missing how furious Miho was, and merely waved Samehada in farewell.

Miho waited until Kisame was out of sight before she turned to Itachi. He had not moved from the doorway, his gaze flickering between her and the sizeable pile of pills on the kitchen table. His bag and its contents—Summoning scrolls and the pill bottles—were thrown on the ground beside the table.

"You rummaged through my things," he intoned.

"Go take a shower."

"Miho—"

"Do _not_ talk to me right now," she snarled.

"You shouldn't have gone through my things," he said.

Miho stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you upset?" she said, her every word dripping with acidity.

"I—"

"_Are you upset_?" she repeated, nearly shrieking and causing Itachi to back several steps away. "What reason do _you_ have to be upset?! Two fucking months! No contact! Nothing! I've been writing to you—begging you to tell me where you are—do you think I've been in Konoha and just waltzed out, Itachi?! I was captured by Danzou, handed over to Orochimaru, nearly killed by your little brother and his team more than once, Itachi, and the entire time, what do I hear from you? Nothing! And I find you, your lodging, only to find out that you haven't been taking your medications at all! You get closer and I can't even attack you because I can sense your heart is so bad that you shouldn't be standing at all—and you have the _gall_ to ask me not to look through your things?! Why don't I go through all the reasons why I'm upset? How about, for starters, that I have every right to look through your things when you've read through every journal entry that I've ever written? In fact, that's not even the big picture, how about _I'm upset_ _that the man I love is dying and doesn't give a damn about it_! What have I been in Konoha this entire time for if it wasn't for your life?!"

"You went to find answers," he said, his eyes flashing. "Answers I didn't want to give you."

"Wrong," she snapped. "I went to find your cure."

"Among other things," he said frostily. He did not know why he was being so belligerent, but Miho's presence annoyed him—a curveball thrown at him just when things were going to plan. He had no idea how to throw her back, how to just make her _stop_ trying to save him when he did not want it. His heart was palpitating furiously now, and the throbbing pain in his chest now intensified to the point where he could barely breathe.

"No, dammit, Itachi! I went back for you, for your cure, and what do I get?! You don't even take my medications! You're not even trying to save your own life—"

"Because," he said piercingly, "I don't want it."

Miho halted mid-sentence and she stared.

"What?" she said, her voice barely a whisper now.

"I don't want it," he said, agitated, "this life, this cure—I don't want it, never wanted it to begin with—I don't want this life at all—"

He broke off, a coughing fit seizing his body. Immediately, all his chakra shields disappeared under this stress, and the fit seemed to triple in intensity. Itachi fell to his knees, one hand at his mouth and the other clawing at his chest, as if trying to pry his heart out of his body—blood filled his throat, his mouth, and he kept coughing, trying to dislodge it as his breaths grew more and more shallow and he began to see the world spinning—somewhere close, Miho's voice and hands touched him, trying to assuage the pain, but it seemed that it would be of no avail this time, for Itachi could not cough up the blood because there was too much of it, and his feeble heart was working too hard, and this was his punishment, Fate's punishment, his parents' punishment, for finally admitting that he did not want to bear this burden, did not want this life and could not deal with its consequences.

He looked up and saw Miho, and in her, hesitation.

_Not yet_, he said. _Not today. Please._

But this extension wasn't for her; it was for Sasuke and for Konoha, as it was supposed to be.

He was lying. He wanted it. He wanted it to be for her.

And this conviction seized his body and choked the last bit of breath out of him, and all he could taste was the salty metal of blood in his mouth, all he could hear was the pounding of blood in his temples, and he accepted his punishment.

* * *

_free talk: _

yes, i am alive...i am so, so sorry for producing absolutely nothing in nearly a year. needless to say, life got busy...but i swear i haven't forgotten about this! please forgive me...i swear updates will be more consistent. i am determined to finish this, most likely this summer, so you'll have something more consistent to look forward to!

some things i took liberty with: i switched the "save gaara" arc with the "find sasuke" arc. they don't make that much of a difference, and will give miho and itachi some time before sasuke arrives. additionally, unless something miraculous in the manga happens, i'm probably going to diverge from the canon as we get closer to the final battle, as i personally think kishimoto has destroyed his own characters' personalities. LJ post on this probably tomorrow.

finally, though i said before that it would take 55-60 chapters to finish this, it turns out that it won't take that many chapters. we're definitely getting closer to the end now. it won't be more than 30 chapters, i'm guessing.

please review! i'll update soon.

xoxo,  
m.n


	24. Final Indulgences

**Chapter 24: Final Indulgences**

"No."

His coughing hampered her ability to think—there was so much to address at once, and she could sense just how bad Itachi's heart had become. He wasn't supposed to be on his feet, technically wasn't supposed to be alive at all, not with his heart in that condition. And now his mortality was hitting him, ravaging him, right in front of Miho, who represented everything but Itachi's mortality.

"No, no, no," she breathed, shaking as she eased Itachi onto his back. His body convulsed in her arms—he had lost consciousness, and blood was leaking out of his mouth. She turned his head to the side so that he would not choke, then tore off his shirt and immediately began to do compressions on his chest in hopes of forcing him to cough out the blood lodged in his throat.

"Please…" she whispered, "please, come on." She was compressing so hard that she was coming close to breaking his ribs, but that she could fix easily; she needed him to breathe, and there was no other way for her to clear out his airway.

Itachi suddenly gave one particularly hard cough and blood expelled out of his mouth onto the floor beside them. Never had she been so glad to see such a large volume of blood.

"Thank God," she said shakily, easing his head upright again. "Itachi? Itachi, can you hear me?"

There was no response. Shaking even harder now, Miho brought a hand up to his mouth. She felt no breath. Her hand went to his chest, trembling as she laid it over his heart, where she could feel no beat.

_No, no, no_. She began compressions again, and in between sets of thirty, gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but the seconds were ticking by and the longer Itachi's heart did not beat, the less oxygen was delivered to his brain and the slimmer the chance of him coming back normally. Miho bit herself to prevent herself from crying. _Think. Quickly_. She could clear the chakra pathways and administer a chakra shock mimicking the electric shock of a defibrillator to re-establish his heartbeat, but that would take time she couldn't afford. Additionally, Itachi's heart was functioning on barely thirty percent of the tissue it was supposed to have, and it would likely not be able to withstand the pressure of the chakra shock itself. She could clear the pathways and continue the compressions, but there was no guarantee of resuscitation or Itachi's state of mind should he return.

Miho breathed in deeply and placed both her hands on Itachi's chest. Days of nonstop running from Sasuke had fatigued her, and she was not in the best condition.

_Please. Not today._

She began the assimilation.

* * *

He could feel the warmth of someone's body against his, and for several seconds, he thought he was back in Kusagakure. He was with Miho and close to forgetting what exactly he was doing as an Akatsuki member. The feeling of her breathing against his neck. Her arm around his chest, his under her shoulders. Such a simple thing to wake up to—what most husbands and wives expected to wake up to—yet those several weeks in Kusagakure seemed to be like a gift from the heavens. One that Itachi did not deserve. He had come to this conclusion before.

His eyes snapped open. Indeed, it was Miho beside him, which made no sense because he was no longer in Kusagakure. Quickly, the events of the previous night flooded his memory and he sat up abruptly. The sudden movement caused Miho to open her eyes as well.

"Itachi," she croaked, sitting up with him. Her eyes were red and her entire face swollen—not her most beautiful state, yet never had he been more glad to see her. He brought a hand to her cheek as he thought.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, bringing a hand over his heart.

His heart. It was beating, beating with a rhythm and strength that he had nearly forgotten. He looked at her, alarmed.

"What happened last night?"

"You collapsed," she said weakly, though her expression indicated that she was pleased with the solid beat under her palm. "It was…it was bad. Your heart stopped completely."

His other hand covered hers over his chest. His heart was pumping well, too well for it to have stopped completely the night before.

"You healed it?" he said, surprised.

She looked up at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I am…I am well. I feel…better. Much better."

She gave a small smile. "That is good to hear."

"How did you…" He brushed her cheek. "How did you do it?"

"…Shouldn't you have more faith in me?" she said, her voice raspy.

"I do, but it just seemed like a…what I felt last night…I have never felt before. It seemed nearly like a…a lost cause."

She shook her head. "I would never let you die in front of me," she said. "You don't have to worry. You should take it easy, I—"

Miho broke off, coughing, her entire body trembling with every sound. Itachi stroked her back reflexively, concerned, for Miho seemed much weaker and more tired than she had appeared the night before.

"I'm fine," she said amidst coughs, brushing away his hand. "It…may be just a cold."

Itachi stared at her as a series of mental puzzle pieces fell in place.

"Miho," he said, "you didn't."

She looked away.

"Miho, please," he breathed, his hands cupping her cheeks and forcing her to look at him. "Don't say you did, you found another way—"

"There was no other way," she said. "Your heart wasn't beating and the remaining healthy tissue wasn't enough to withstand any shock. I had no choice."

"You had a choice," he said fiercely.

"To do what? Let you die?" she said, wide-eyed and quietly furious. It seemed as if her body prevented her from exacting her rage in any louder of a form.

"Miho, I—"

"You said last night you didn't want it," she said. "You didn't want the cure, you didn't want your life. Well, I gave it to you. And you better damn take it, Itachi, because I will never let you die in front of me, and I never want to hear you say that you—you want to d-die, because I can't—I just can't—"

Tears were streaming down Miho's face and internally, Itachi panicked. Never had he seen her cry like this, not in front of him.

"Please don't die," she begged, her hands cradling his, "please, Itachi, I-I'll do anything but please don't say you don't want to l-live anymore, I'll do anything you want, just p-please…"

He held her tightly, his now functional heart pumping a rhythmic pain with every beat and every one of Miho's sobs.

"I'm here," he said, his hand trailing up and down her spine. "I'm alive. You've done enough, Miho."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stayed there, nestled against his body like a child. The minutes passed with Itachi murmuring the same phrases over and over in her ear. _I am here. I am alive. You have done enough._ Unvoiced were many other phrases: _You have done too much. When will I stop torturing you? I'm sorry. Forgive me. _

Itachi breathed deeply, feeling no wheezing in his chest. How much had she assimilated? Miho's body was weak to begin with—could she manage the pain?

After what seemed like an eternity, Miho's breathing stabilized, and she seemed to have stopped crying. Still, she held onto him, as if letting go would cause him to disappear.

"…Itachi?" she said.

"Mm."

"You…you don't want to die, do you?"

He did not answer immediately. No, he did not want to die. Not yet. Not yesterday.

But he did have to die soon, and whether or not he wanted it was irrelevant. His choice was irrelevant, because honestly, who _did_ want to die when they had everything they'd ever need: health, skill, power, money, and Miho.

"No," he heard himself saying. "I don't."

But he had to, because that was what was expected of him, and…

"If you could live anywhere," his voice said on its own, "where would it be?"

Miho looked up at him in surprise. They had never bothered to have these "what if" conversations because they could easily spiral out of control, and the times Miho had wanted to bring them up, Itachi would quickly direct the conversation elsewhere because he could not afford to be indulgent.

"This…" she said, hesitating because she too knew that they could not be sentimental when he was hiding something that would prevent these "what if" scenarios from ever happening. He knew Miho had hopes, hopes so little but so profound that if she voiced them aloud and they did not happen, they would shatter her. But still, he wanted to know this life she envisioned, this perfect life where he could wake up with his wife next to him and they would not have to worry about death looming at the door.

"Konoha," she said quietly, "at…at the edge of the village. On the opposite side of where the Uchiha compound is."

Her hands crawled up his neck and into his hair. She leaned her forehead against his and they gazed at each other, but while Itachi looked at Miho, she looked somewhere far away, to a future she had imagined over and over again.

"It would be away from the main activities of the village," she continued. "We wouldn't venture there often. Just to get groceries and stuff."

"Potatoes," he clarified.

Miho smirked. "No, we would grow those in our backyard."

He chuckled and toyed with a strand of her hair. "Go on."

"We would be upstanding citizens of society. I would work in the hospital. You would…work directly under the Godaime."

"Such an important position for me?" he said.

"Brilliant minds need to be put to good use. And you would like the Hokage. She is more…hot-tempered than you are. She requires a level mind to assist her."

"Mm. And would we have children?"

Miho had been fiddling with Itachi's necklace, but upon hearing this question, she froze. It was clear what the answer was, but it seemed that she had not expected this game to go so far.

"…We can't do this," she said softly. "It won't…it won't happen."

"Then we are merely expressing our whims and dreams, Miho. Just like when we were children."

"And look where those got us," she said, nearly glaring at him. "All that talk about being stupid and being farmers and everything—we are so far from that. These are my whims and dreams, Itachi. They'll never happen."

"Are you certain? Don't you want answers about the past because you think this future is entirely possible?"

She stared up at him, and he knew he had been correct. And Miho was right—if he came clean about everything, the Hokage would give him pardon and he would be allowed to go home, and they would be able to have the life that Miho had always wanted. Briefly, Itachi could not see why not. Sasuke disappeared from the forefront of his mind, and instead he saw himself and Miho, gray-haired in their old age, and somewhere in the distance, the resounding voices of their faceless children.

Then, the vision disappeared and he returned to the world of a wordless Miho and a vengeful Sasuke and somewhere in the distance, a Konoha in need of protection.

"Don't give me false hopes, Itachi," Miho said, upset.

"…Forgive me," he said. "It was thoughtless of me."

For a second, it looked as if Miho was in intense pain. Before Itachi could ask, though, her expression cleared.

"I've told you my whims and dreams," she said tonelessly. "What are yours?"

Itachi did not respond. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her, an action he had been craving for for the last several months. Miho seemed to resist initially, but then slowly, she kissed him back and curled her hands in his hair. She eased onto her back, dragging him down with her.

"Kusagakure," he said between kisses.

She seemed perturbed that he had mentioned a village name in the middle of their activities.

"What?"

"Kusagakure," he repeated. "Those weeks were my whims and dreams. If I had a choice…I would live those weeks over and over again."

Miho's gaze softened. "You always have a choice."

He looked at her. "As do you."

Miho did not want to continue the conversation. She kissed him and began to undress him, and he followed suit, his hands roaming her body and their breaths reaching a unified pattern. The choices given were not always the choices made, because no matter how much they tried to convince themselves, some choices simply did not exist, and they were left with just that—whims, dreams, and indulgence.

* * *

After that dreadful first night and the dangerous conversation the following morning, Itachi did not bicker with Miho about his treatment any longer. The fact that she had assimilated some of his heart disease was not a trivial gesture, and Itachi understood this very well. He sat by quietly as she examined him, gave him medication, and studied.

She did not doubt that Itachi did not want to die, but long had she realized that Itachi hardly ever considered what he wanted. Miho could not understand precisely why Itachi had to die—she was his cure, she believed him, and now more than ever, she knew that the reason behind the Uchiha massacre also had nothing to do with what Itachi wanted and everything to do with what Itachi felt he was required to do. She was convinced that Konoha could pardon him—she just needed him to want the pardon badly enough.

And so Miho began to do several things.

When she and Itachi had first started having sex, the question of birth control had awkwardly arisen.

"You don't…take anything, do you?" he'd asked after the first week.

She'd given him an appraising look. "A little late to be asking, Mr. I-didn't-think-about-protection-until-now?"

For once, Itachi had been stumped. "I just…"

"Relax. I doubt my body could take the strain of a child right now. Thanks to Orochimaru, I'm not even entirely sure I can have children."

He hadn't been convinced. "That…"

Miho had sighed. "Don't worry. Be grateful my chakra control is good—I kill all your sperm internally."

Itachi had tried his best not to look scandalized. "…You just kill them?"

"…Itachi, that's what birth control is."

"But—"

"Oh, relax," she'd snapped. "You produce three hundred million of those things in one go, don't sit around bemoaning their loss. I've been taking some herbal remedies as an additional precautionary measure, too, so don't worry about it."

Since then, Itachi had entrusted this potential issue to Miho, for both of them knew that they could not deal with the prospect of a child. Not to mention that both Akatsuki and Konoha would have a field day if they found out one of the world's greatest S-Class criminals was now a father.

When Itachi had brought up the question of children in their future, Miho knew that he had merely been inquisitive of the future she had in mind for them. He'd thought nothing more of it, and nothing less. Yet the question had taken root in Miho, for as she lied awake next to Itachi after their second round of sex, she realized that she had a possible method of instilling a reason to live in Itachi.

Without telling Itachi, Miho stopped any birth control mechanisms and instead focused on ways to improve her own health and fertility. She had been examined in Konoha and knew that she was capable of bearing children—it was just the matter of when.

The second thing that Miho began to do was doubt that she could cure Itachi with the same surgical procedure Tsunade had taught her. She had expected Itachi's heart to be in much better condition than it was currently; additionally, she had expected her own stamina to be maximized. The recent assimilation had taken its toll on her body, and she was adjusting to her own limitations. Not only was she unsure if Itachi could survive on the operating table with his insufficient heart, she was not sure if she herself could last the entire surgery. She could not risk collapsing in the middle of Itachi's operation. She needed to practice and ensure that she could perform the surgery without any hitches—the question was exactly how she would obtain said practice.

Kisame returned with the Yonbi several days later in the middle of the night. It was raining again, and Itachi had retired to bed early. He had not complained about his heart—he'd actually mentioned how much better he was feeling than before several times—but this was only a testament to just how poor his condition had been before Miho had arrived. She had only restored his heart to its minimum working order, and now that she had a taste of what Itachi was suffering through, she had to admire his insistence that he was feeling quite well.

"You took longer than I thought," she said to Kisame as he bound the Yonbi to Samehada and left him in the corner of the room.

"You should be thanking me," he grinned. "Gave you two some time alone, didn't I?"

Miho looked at him appraisingly, about to make some sarcastic comment, only to realize that Kisame may have been telling the truth.

"…You're an odd one," she merely stated. She inclined her head toward the Jinchuuriki. "You sure you can just leave him like that?"

"Yeah, he's out cold and Samehada will drain him of any chakra that regenerates," Kisame said, stretching. "If he does anything stupid, you'll tell me."

Miho nodded.

"You okay?" Kisame said, peering down at her from his great height. "You don't look too good. Why are you up so late anyway?"

"Reading," she said, inclining her head to the stack of textbooks she had stolen from Konoha's library.

"About Itachi-san's disease?"

"Mm."

"You don't look good," he repeated. "What happened?"

"I have been…it has been difficult. Itachi was in very poor condition the night I arrived. I had to take some drastic measures."

Kisame looked at her with the barest bit of concern. "Meaning?"

"You are aware of my kekkei genkai, right?"

"Blood can heal stuff," he responded.

"There's a second part—"

"Shit. You took part of his disease."

Miho nodded, suddenly very tired. "Just a portion. Enough to sustain him as I cleared the rest of his chakra pathways. But it's not enough. If I took any more, I wouldn't be able to function and we'd both die. I need to perform a very tricky and dangerous surgery to reconstruct about half of his heart."

Kisame looked startled. "It's that bad?"

"Kisame-san, do you think Itachi's invincible? I've been telling both you and him for ages that his heart is fragile, yet both of you seem to think that he can power on using Mangekyou and anything else without a problem." Miho let out a sigh. "I need a favor from you."

"Is it about Itachi-san?"

"Clearly. I wouldn't ask you for a favor otherwise."

"Then sure."

At his immediate reply, Miho gave him another look. "In so many ways, you are more loyal and honorable than half the shinobi I've seen in Konoha. Looks like you do care about Itachi."

Kisame shrugged. "Kid's a good kid. What do you need?"

Miho hesitated. "You know the first test that your Leader gave me? The healing one?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I had a lot of fun sawing those guys up."

"Where…did you get those men?"

"They were prisoners," he explained. "A lot of them we grabbed from Orochimaru's random bases if Deidara didn't blow them up."

"Would you happen to have more of those people…available?"

Kisame understood where Miho was going with the inquiry and gave her a toothy grin. "You're starting to become one of us, Miho-san."

She scowled. "I am not a delusional maniac killer who likes to saw people up, thank you very much."

"Watch your mouth," said Kisame warningly. "Convince yourself all you like—this is how Akatsuki gets things done. The moment you start trying to play God with other people's lives, you become one of us."

"I'm not trying to play God, I'm trying to save Itachi!"

Kisame shrugged again. "What's the difference? Who are you to decide that Itachi-san's life is more important than those prisoners? Clearly, I don't care—I prefer Itachi-san alive to any of them. But don't pretend that what you're doing is any different from what Akatsuki is doing, Miho-san. The moment we decide we deserve to hold someone else's life in the palm of our hands, we are playing God, and you become no different from us."

"Then that's the entire foundation of the shinobi world," said Miho coldly. "Each village fights for its own set of beliefs, for its definitions of what perfection and peace are. What's the difference between any village and Akatsuki then?"

Kisame's grin widened. "A big one. Akatsuki doesn't pretend to be all self-righteous and shit. We kill when we want to kill, we fight without pretending it's for the good of the world. Konoha and every other village is the exact same, except they pretend that they are doing everything for the greater good, as if they are righteous gods and Akatsuki isn't. They just don't realize that at the end of the day, the world operates the same for every shinobi capable of wielding a kunai and protecting themselves—it's eat or be eaten. Humans aren't so different from animals, Miho-san."

Kisame stretched and headed for the second bedroom. "Maybe that's why Itachi-san defected from Konoha. Maybe he couldn't deal with all the frauds and men playing gods any longer."

Miho didn't answer, clearly resenting the conversation, but Kisame continued anyway.

"You know, you'd think that medics would be the ones who are truly fighting for a greater good. Healing instead of killing, many of them indiscriminately. That's what you call really playing God—because God is unfair to everybody, and that's what makes life fair. Though I guess that makes you a really shitty doctor, Miho-san."

"Goodnight, Kisame-san," she said curtly.

"Touched a nerve, did I? No worries, Miho-san, I'm not judging. I'll get you those prisoners, though I guess I should call them patients now."

She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing. "Not a word of this to Itachi."

Kisame looked surprised. "Why? You're doing it for his own good."

"This kind of business is better left off to the unrighteous then," she said coolly. "Just keep quiet."

"…Fine. I'll let you know where I leave them tomorrow. And I'll see if I can buy you and Itachi-san some time before Akatsuki is mobilized again."

"I appreciate it."

"Mm. Night."

The door shut behind Kisame, leaving Miho alone. She glanced at the motionless Jinchuuriki in the corner of the room. The thought of easing his pain crossed her mind, but she ignored it. She was a shitty doctor, indeed.

She entered her and Itachi's room, worn out in every way. As she slipped into the bed beside Itachi, he stirred and opened his eyes.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I've been awake," he said. "Kisame-san is not exactly quiet."

She kissed him on the forehead. "Sorry. I'll tell him to be quieter next time."

"It is fine. You seem tired and somewhat…upset. Did Kisame do something?"

"…No. We were just talking."

Itachi made a movement to sit up. "About what?"

She pushed him back down lightly. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Did he make inappropriate comments again?" Itachi said darkly.

Miho gave a throaty laugh. "No, our conversation lacked any sexual innuendos, surprisingly. We were just talking."

"About?" pressed Itachi.

She opened her mouth, a foolish question at the tip of her tongue.

But she could not vocalize the thought. Itachi looked at her inquisitively, bemused by her silence. Instead, Miho smiled tiredly and kissed him.

"It's nothing, Itachi. Go back to sleep."

He looked concerned but relented. He scooted over on the bed, making room for her, and extended his arm customarily so that she could curl against his shoulder.

Whether she was good or bad, it didn't matter. At the end of the day, she was selfish, and she knew it. No matter what she did, it was for Itachi. Kisame was right—it was eat or be eaten, and she would not let what little happiness she had be devoured.

* * *

Itachi knew that Miho was up to something, but whenever he tried to ask about it, he was met with a vehement, "If I don't snoop around all your Akatsuki business, then don't ask me about mine." If he was especially persistent, she would reply exasperatedly with, "I'm experimenting on baby bunnies, okay? I know you love those things so I didn't want to tell you."

While it was true that Itachi did enjoy the presence of baby bunnies and certainly did not enjoy the prospect of Miho torturing them for the sake of science, he could tell that she was hiding something. Surprisingly, Kisame seemed to know more than Itachi did, but likewise, when pressed, Kisame would mention something along the lines of baby bunnies as well, except in much more picturesque detail, and then Itachi would merely stop listening.

The three of them stayed in their cabin for the majority of the following weeks. Itachi and Kisame left for several hours temporarily for the extraction of Shukaku from the Kazekage, during which Itachi and Kisame's clones fought with Kakashi and the Nine-Tailed Jinchuuriki. Itachi did not mention this to Miho, for she was often away from the cabin for long periods of time and would return exhausted. Any news of her favorite Konoha jounin seemed unwelcome, especially when it would only serve as a reminder of the apparently peaceful time she had given up for Itachi. The only other disturbance that the three of them had was the arrival of a mauled Deidara and his new partner, Tobi. Itachi had to marvel at Kakashi's ability to utilize the Mangekyou despite his non-Uchiha body.

"What happened to Sasori?" asked Miho, bewildered when she arrived home late at night to find all four Akatsuki members lounging on the couch. Itachi was feeling particularly murderous, as Deidara was yapping nonstop, and Tobi—whom Itachi knew was Madara but had an alter ego—was doubly irritating and worrisome. He had not spoken to Madara in several years, but he had reason to suspect that the man had not forgotten Miho and was potentially the reason why Miho was being kept with Akatsuki in the first place. Itachi was unsure why—perhaps Madara just wanted to watch him squirm.

"Sasori-danna is dead, mm," said Deidara as he chewed on a piece of dried fish that Kisame had prepared earlier.

"How?" said Miho, stunned.

"Konoha and Suna shinobi," said Kisame. "They got in a fight with the Godaime's pupil and an old lady from Suna."

"You fought Haruno Sakura?"

"Yup," said Deidara. "And that bastard Kakashi, mm."

Miho turned to Itachi. "When did this happen?"

"Several days ago," he said nonchalantly, "when we went to extract Shukaku."

"…Did you kill Kakashi?" said Miho to Deidara.

"No, dammit," he growled.

"Tell him what he did to _you_ instead," grinned Kisame.

"Stow it, shark."

"What he do?" said Miho, positively intrigued.

"Nothing, dammit."

"Blew his arm off," chortled Kisame.

"Seriously?" said Miho, her lips hinting at the first grin Itachi had seen in several days.

"Shut up, mm! I would've blown him to pieces if it weren't for his fucking eye," snapped Deidara, glaring at Itachi who only smirked lazily.

"Don't blame the Sharingan, Deidara-san," said Itachi, his eyes glowing. "Blame only your perpetual incompetence."

"Uchiha—"

"You're the new guy?" said Miho, scrutinizing Tobi, in hopes of avoiding a skirmish.

"I am indeed!" said Tobi jubilantly. "Deidara-senpai has been super great and we've been having an awesome time, haven't we, senpai?"

Miho's eyes narrowed slightly and she glanced over at Itachi. Smart woman. Itachi shook his head imperceptibly, indicating that he would explain later.

"What are you here for, Deidara?" she asked.

"Need you to fix my arm, mm," he grumbled. "Kakuzu sewed it up but he did a really shitty job. I think it's infected."

"…You're not supposed to be able to just _sew_ dismembered body parts back on," said Miho, deadpan.

"Hey, he did and it's functional, mm. I need you to fix it before it falls back off."

Miho let out a breath, clearly tired.

"Maybe it can wait until tomorrow, Deidara-san," said Itachi.

"No, my arm fucking hurts."

"Deal with it," said Kisame.

Itachi glanced at Kisame, taken aback that his partner was defending Miho at all.

"It's fine, it won't take long," said Miho, setting down her bag and stepping in front of Deidara. "Let me see it."

Deidara slipped his cloak off his shoulder, revealing a crude set of thick stitches that adhered his arm to his shoulder. Miho grimaced.

"And it really functions?" she said, disbelieving but preparing to disinfect it all the same.

"Yep. Ow, dammit, woman."

"Stop whining, it barely stung. Your chakra pathways seem connected too. Maybe I should give Kakuzu a little more credit." She brushed the stitches one last time with scalding chakra and stood up, paler than before. "That should do it. Now go away."

"It's late—"

"Just. Go," she said irately. "I can't stand the noise."

"Hey, you should be thanking me—I'm doing Uchiha a favor, mm."

"By what?" muttered Miho. "Annoying him to death?"

"No, I'm on my way to kill his little brother," smirked Deidara cheekily. "That should be good practice before I kill you, Uchiha."

"Good luck," said Itachi monotonously.

"Akatsuki is going to attack Sasuke?" said Miho.

"Mm, he took out Orochimaru, and I wanted to kill that snake," said Deidara, standing up and stretching. "Fine then, Tobi, let's head out."

"Deidara-senpai, I gotta pee!"

"What the fuck—just go outside! Don't announce it to the world, mm! How distasteful."

"Be right back," said Tobi cheerily, but as he stood up, Itachi caught him motioning to accompany him. Miho was occupied with Deidara and Kisame. After waiting several seconds, he slipped out as well and joined Tobi.

"Why are you suddenly active in Akatsuki?" said Itachi without any preamble.

"We've lost a member, no one's around to fill in," said Madara, his silky voice replacing Tobi's overtly high one. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Itachi-san."

Itachi did not answer.

"…She's become a fine medic, that one," said Madara. "I'm still stunned as how she managed to survive that night, but I suppose it worked out for the better, or else you would have never been able to last for so long."

"What do you want?" said Itachi evenly.

"No need to be so frightened, Itachi-san. I have no intentions of hurting her. I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing, now that Sasuke-san is finally on the move."

"Sasuke and my battle has been expected since the beginning," said Itachi coldly.

"Ah, yes, that was never really a question. The real question is: do you intend to win?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's not the question of _could_ you, Itachi-san. It's the question of whether you _want_ to."

Itachi masked his sudden concern.

"You are unnecessarily cryptic, Madara."

"That would be Madara-_san_ to you, Itachi-san. A man with no manners is certainly unpleasant."

"What do you want?"

"Absolutely nothing, Itachi-san, except for your best efforts when you fight Sasuke-san. The boy has grown and his team is formidable. It would be wise not to take them too lightly. Wouldn't want all the efforts your medic's to be wasted." Madara turned to leave. "Oh…I suppose I did come for something."

Itachi waited for something to happen, but Madara made no movement to attack. Suddenly, though, the door to the cabin burst open. From within, Kisame called out, "Miho-san?" but there was no answer; Miho appeared in front of them, breathless, and she just stared.

"Miho-san!" Madara had become Tobi again. "You shouldn't sneak up on people!"

Miho did not reply—her eyes flickered back and forth between Itachi and Tobi.

"You…" she said to Tobi. "Just now."

"What is it?" said Tobi innocently.

"…Nothing."

"Okay! I'm going to be on my way then!"

Miho did not move as Tobi began his departure, but Itachi could tell that an incredible volume of chakra had suddenly concentrated in her right hand. He made a movement to stop her, but Miho moved too quickly—the chakra that had accumulated into her right hand instantaneously switched to her right foot and she pivoted, her kick connecting with Tobi's chest—or at least, it would have, had it not been for Madara's ability to let everything pass through him. Instead, Miho's kick landed in a pile of firewood that immediately splintered into thousands of pieces.

"Missed me!" said Tobi, unharmed.

"Who are you?" Miho demanded.

"My name is Tobi, and I am—"

"Don't fuck with me," she snarled, "who are you?!"

Tobi—no, Madara scoffed. His voice had changed. "…Little girl's chakra sensing really has become something marvelous. Even Itachi-san didn't sense any changes just now."

"Who are you?" repeated Miho, chakra accumulating in her right hand again. "Tell me right now or I will split your head open—"

In one swift movement, Madara negated the chakra in Miho's palm with one hand and used his other to pin her neck against the wall.

"Split my head open?" said Madara dangerously. "I don't recall that going so well the last time we met, mm?"

Miho's eyes widened. She grabbed the arm Madara was pinning her with and just as her hand passed through, sent a stream of chakra through it—it caught and his arm solidified infinitesimally, just enough time for his grip to relax. Miho lunged forward for the orange mask, but before her hand could grip the edge, Madara sent her flying backward with his own wave of chakra. Itachi caught Miho just as the remaining two Akatsuki members came rushing outside.

"What the hell's going on, mm?" said Deidara. "Tobi, what are you doing?"

"I was just defending myself!" said Tobi innocuously. "Miho-san suddenly attacked me and I just retaliated!"

"What the fuck, woman—"

"Leave," said Itachi dangerously as he helped Miho up to her feet.

"She just attacked an Akatsuki member, Uchiha—I think she's getting a little out of hand—"

"We'll take care of it," said Kisame. "You two better head out before it starts to rain again."

"Fine, mm," snapped Deidara. "You better keep her in line, mm, she's a prisoner still, and—"

"Deidara-san," said Itachi, his eyes glowing venomously, "if you would like to retain both of your arms, I suggest you leave. _Now_."

"Off we go, senpai!" said Tobi cheerily. "Bye, everyone! It was _wonderful_ meeting you, Miho-san!"

Kisame waited until they had disappeared from sight before rounding on Miho.

"What the hell was that? Are you really that crazy?"

"…I didn't make a mistake," she said.

"You sure as hell did—you just attacked an Akatsuki member and thought you could just get away with it!"

"I don't think that's what she was talking about, Kisame-san," said Itachi.

"Did you know," she said to no one in particular, "that Tobi can change his chakra signature?"

Itachi froze. Miho looked over at him.

"It's a very rare skill," she continued. "I thought I was the only one capable of it. Looks like I was wrong."

She walked over to Itachi and placed her hands on his shoulders. Kisame looked confused.

"Itachi?" she said absentmindedly, her hands snaking closer to his neck.

"…What is it?"

Her fingers suddenly enclosed tightly around his neck, each one burning with malignant chakra. Itachi attempted to take a step back, but a searing pain rooted him to the spot and he knew that if he struggled, Miho could sever his spinal cord in one millisecond.

"You have one chance," she whispered, her eyes glittering with a madness that Itachi had not seen in a long, long time. "Who is Tobi?"

Kisame made a movement forward, but Miho stopped him.

"Don't bother, Kisame," she said. "If I move one centimeter, I can kill him."

"What are you doing?" said Kisame, his voice deadly.

"I'm getting answers. Uchiha Itachi. On the night of the massacre, did you or did you not have someone help you?"

Itachi looked at her fearlessly. "Yes."

"Was that man Tobi?"

"I believe you have decided that already, regardless of what I say," he said quietly.

Miho was shaking dangerously. "And," she said, her voice even softer than his, "was he the one who killed my father?"

Itachi made eye contact with Kisame, who looked thoroughly confused. Countless days spent in each other's company had taught them how to communicate nearly telepathically. Upon eye contact, Kisame's body relaxed. Itachi would take care of it.

"Yes," said Itachi simply.

Miho's hands relaxed, and without further ado, Itachi punched her swiftly in the stomach. She cursed under her breath but slumped into Itachi's arms, unconscious.

"We're killing her," said Kisame. "Now."

"No," said Itachi. "I'm going to let her rest."

"Itachi-san, I thought she wasn't dangerous anymore but she just came the closest I've seen anyone get to killing you—"

"And she will remain the person closest to killing me," said Itachi, "other than my own body. Miho cannot kill me, Kisame-san—she never will. She just had an extremely precarious and emotional moment. I am surprised she did not go sprinting after Tobi herself."

"If she does anything else—"

"I'll take care of it, Kisame-san. You cannot deny that she is necessary for my survival."

Kisame, defeated, followed Itachi back into the house.

"So was it true, then? What she said?"

Itachi debated for several seconds and settled on the truth. "…Yes, it was."

"Then why did you let her believe that you were the one to kill her and her dad for all these years?" he asked. "You could've saved yourself a lot of effort and…crazy girl moments."

Itachi opened the door to their room, trying to find a counter for this argument that Miho would surely present as well.

"I merely didn't want to give her false hope."

* * *

Miho was much calmer than Itachi had expected her to be when she woke up the next day. The questions came quietly and without the rage that had completely overwhelmed her the night before.

"Breakfast," he said simply before they began, placing a tray in front of her.

She stared at the bowl of porridge and the cleanly sliced apples in front of her.

"Breakfast in bed," she said, taking her spoon and stirring the porridge. "Someone is feeling guilty."

"Of course I am," said Itachi simply.

The cursory glance up at him indicated that she had not expected him to admit it. "Why?"

"I am always feeling guilty toward you," he said. "This time…particularly so."

"Why?" she asked again.

Itachi sighed and sat down in front of her. "Is the porridge satisfactory?"

"Like everything you do, Itachi, it is more than satisfactory. Don't avoid the question."

"…You want to know why I am feeling particularly guilty, or—?"

"For heaven's sake, Itachi," she said wearily, "don't go in circles. I want to know why you didn't tell me you weren't the one to kill my father and me that night."

"Because it wouldn't have made a difference," he said bluntly.

She looked at him. "Of course it would have. It makes a huge difference. It would've saved me years of agonizing that I'm sleeping with my father's killer—that—"

"No, it wouldn't have changed anything," said Itachi coldly, his Sharingan activated, "because at the moment that you were fighting Tobi, I was on my way to your home to kill you."

A silence ensued, and when Miho continued to say nothing, Itachi took the liberty to continue.

"I did not tell you the facts because for once, facts meant little and intention meant everything. I did not want to give you the false sense that you were exempt that night, Miho. You or your father. I was mentally prepared to kill you and I would have, had I not been preoccupied killing my parents."

Miho's expression did not change. Instead, she continued eating wordlessly, barely even meeting his eyes. So bewildering was her utter lack of response that Itachi felt the need to reach over and tap her on the shoulder.

"…Miho?"

"You better deactivate your Sharingan before I tear them out of their sockets," she said.

Though he sensed no killing intent, he obeyed.

"Miho…are you all right?"

"Quite," she said coolly, pushing aside the now empty tray and climbing out of bed. "I am going to be gone all day. Stay in and don't exhaust yourself."

Itachi watched her as she dressed quickly, clearly wanting nothing more than to be rid of him.

"Miho, I can tell you're not all right."

She stopped at the door and turned around.

"So what?" she said icily. "Why does that matter? Do you want me to feel better, knowing that even though someone else was the one to kill my father and pin me against that tree, you would've done the exact same thing? You don't care whether or not I'm all right, Itachi. You just told me you are mentally prepared to kill me."

"That's not—"

"What you meant?" she finished for him, her glare cold and burning. "As if that's not what you just said?"

Itachi did not have an answer.

She spent several minutes just looking at him.

"Sometimes," she said, "I wish you wouldn't remind me that I'm not worth anything to you. That you can throw me away at any second. Or that what makes me feel 'all right' just doesn't matter. You lie when I want to know the truth—you tell the truth when there is nothing more than I want just a little white lie. So no, Itachi. After years of not getting what I want, I'm not all right, and at this point, only you can fix me. You just choose not to."

She shouldered the bag full of scrolls she now always carried around with her, and Itachi, unable to tell the lies that she wanted to hear, watched her leave.

* * *

Kisame was waiting for Miho at the location she held her "patients," a small, abandoned prison a mile and a half away from the cabin they resided in. The moment she entered, Kisame grabbed her by the collar and effortlessly slammed her against the nearest wall. Her head exploded with pain, but it was immediately following by an excruciating punch to her rib cage. The one-sided exchange happened in barely two seconds; Kisame thankfully did not torture her any further and instead let Miho slide to the ground, coughing out blood.

"I would drain you of every bit of chakra you have," he said, "but that would make you effectively useless for surgery so I decided against it."

Miho did not bother asking for an explanation, but Kisame gave one anyway.

"I thought you were no longer a danger to Itachi-san."

"…I'm…not," she said haggardly. "It's not like…I would ever manage to kill him."

"That's not what I meant," said Kisame silkily. "I meant your intent."

Miho got to her feet slowly and began healing herself.

"You were going to kill him last night," he said accusatorily.

"I won't do it again," she said tonelessly.

"That's not good enough, Miho-san."

"I won't," she snapped, all the anger that she had concealed so successfully from Itachi finally bubbling over her rims of self-control. "Give me a break, Kisame! I'm not appealing to your conscience but just cut me some slack—you're right, I would have killed him last night, but no matter how much I care for Itachi, he's done too much shit to me for me to just accept it peacefully! I'm not asking you to understand, I just need you to…just…stop it." She let out a breath. "I made a mistake—I won't make it again."

Kisame looked dubious but relented. Miho exhaled, her body still aching even though she had repaired the broken ribs, and made her way past him.

"How's the procedure coming along?" he asked, his tone now devoid of any menace.

"I'm almost there," she replied.

"How many people do you have left?"

"You gave me fifty. Thirty are left."

"…Those aren't great odds, Miho-san."

"Not as a whole," she agreed, walking down the hall to the cells. Kisame followed her. "But it was honestly only the first fifteen or so that gave me trouble. I've operated on forty-seven of them and the last ten I've operated on had conditions precisely like what Itachi has now, and they have been recovering well. The remaining three have heart conditions I've induced to be slightly worse than where Itachi's heart is now. I'll operate on them for the next few days, rest for a day, and then schedule Itachi's surgery for the day after."

"…Wow. And the operation will cure him completely?"

Miho nodded as she pushed open an ironclad door. "If everything goes smoothly, which I'm ninety percent sure it will. By the end of today, hopefully I'll be at ninety-five percent."

She entered the cell. Inside, a man approximately twenty-five years old lay on a bed in the corner of the room, chained to the wall. He was curled up in fetal position, clearly in pain.

"How did you induce their conditions?" said Kisame.

"I gave them some of my undiluted blood and then injected a poison that contained an enzyme for cardiac tissue degeneration."

"Is it painful?" he asked.

The prisoner moaned.

"Very," said Miho, barely batting an eyelash.

The man in the corner stirred and turned over to face them.

"Hello," said Miho simply. "It's your turn today."

"You…bitch," he breathed. "You…heartless…monster…and you call yourself…a doctor…"

She saw Kisame look her way.

"You should leave, Kisame-san," she said sedately. "The insults get boring after a while."

* * *

The atmosphere with Miho did not get any better over the next few days. Itachi grew frustrated with the ceaseless battle; Miho would not yell, she would not snap. In fact, she was quite cordial and even initiated much of the sex that they had. The change in demeanor was so different from how Itachi normally knew Miho to express her anger that he thought occasionally that Miho was an imposter.

Of course, she wasn't, and Itachi was instead left unsure how to approach the situation.

The news of Deidara's death came suddenly but not unsurprisingly. From his crows' updates, Sasuke and Deidara's meeting had been inevitable. Miho, however, had been stunned at the news.

"Dead?" she repeated as she, soaking wet from the downpour, hung up her cloak.

"Mm."

"Both of them?" she said, looking toward Itachi for verification.

"Deidara took Sasuke out with him," said Kisame. "When he fed clay into the mouth in his chest, he turned his entire body into a bomb that would wipe anything out within a ten kilometer radius. There was no way Sasuke could get away so fast. Suppose we should say thank you to Deidara for getting rid of that little bout of trouble, though I suppose he was still your brother. You're the last surviving Uchiha now, Itachi-san. How are you feeling?"

Itachi, who had been staring out of the window, suddenly spoke.

"He's not dead."

"Who, Sasuke?"

"…He's not dead." Itachi turned to Miho. "Nevertheless, I'm glad that the you have chosen to return."

"I said I'd be late tonight."

"Mm. During the time, Kisame-san has kindly alerted me the details of your arrangement with him."

Miho's eyes narrowed. "Arrangement?"

"Your hideout," said Itachi, "approximately one and a half miles away from here containing over thirty prisoners and—"

"Oh, that," said Miho with a shrug. "About time you found out."

"Eh? You're not angry?" said Kisame.

"Like it would matter to you if I were angry," said Miho dryly. "No, honestly, I thought Itachi would've confronted me about it sooner. Looks like you've been a little preoccupied with something, though."

"What you're doing is unethical and unnecessary," said Itachi angrily.

"Do me a favor and shut up," she said. "I'm tired. Your surgery's scheduled for next week. I'm going to sleep."

In a flash, Itachi stood between Miho and the entrance to their bedroom.

"Miho, what are you doing?"

"Itachi, I don't want to have a conversation about morals, especially not with you."

"She makes a better Akatsuki member than you, honestly," said Kisame. "How many times do I have to tell you, Itachi-san—the foundational moral of criminals is to have none."

"You are experimenting with people's lives," said Itachi, ignoring Kisame completely.

"Looks like I learned something from Orochimaru, at least."

"Miho, this is not who you—"

"No, Itachi," she snapped, finally showing the first signs of irritation he had seen from her in the last several days. "This is _exactly_ who I am. I am a doctor who kills people for the _one, sole_ man I care for on the face of the planet, and that man is lucky enough to be you so in the meantime, shut up and let me save your life, would you? Now get out of the way—I'm going to bed."

Protesting would only make both Miho and Kisame more suspicious. Itachi made eye contact with Kisame, who only shrugged as if to say, "Your fault." Somewhat tense, Itachi followed Miho into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

"Miho, I know you don't want to listen—"

She dropped her bag and turned around. In one easy motion, she pushed him against the wall.

"Yeah, you're right," she said, her mouth hovering over his. "I'm not going to listen, so you're going to shut up and we're going to have sex. Have I made myself clear?"

The domineering Miho made Itachi temporarily speechless, and he allowed himself to be pulled to the bed, where Miho pushed him down and climbed over him.

"Miho," he said, strained, "we need to talk—"

"I think I do like it better when you're quiet," she breathed as she began to undress him.

She kissed him and Itachi realized that the "mind over body" mantra he had adhered to so adamantly for most of his life was effectively useless in the face of a seductive Miho. The recent news of Deidara and Sasuke's fight only meant that soon, Itachi would find himself face-to-face with his brother. As Miho kissed him and he returned it, a faint voice in the back of his head reminded him that his time was coming and he needed to do all that he could to prepare himself, to prepare Miho and give her the closure necessary.

But he did not have the words quite yet, and though he knew that the months had turned into weeks and were now ticking into days, the full impact of his looming death had not quite hit him and tonight, like he had for the last three years, he allowed himself to indulge.

* * *

_free talk_:

thank you everyone for your warm encouragement and welcome back to the writing world. :) as promised, a new chapter. i've definitely changed a lot of things (having tobi/madara talk, miho finds out, the manner of deidara's death, etc.) and of course, the timeline.

there are some side character development things that i will talk about more on my LJ. feel free to read if you are interested!

i'll update again soon. please review! :)

xoxo,  
m.n


	25. Forgive Me

_free talk_:

_apologies for the delay—thank you for your patience and support in the meantime. for obvious reasons, this was a hard chapter to write. a huge thank you to wingedmercury for her help. i highly encourage you to read the LJ post (link on my profile) for this chapter; i had a lot to say._

_xoxo,  
m.n_

* * *

**Chapter 25: Forgive Me**

"Did you get a little taller?"

Sasuke's red eyes glared in the dark at his brother's harmless inquiry. Itachi really had only meant to make a simple observation, one that made him glad as he surveyed his younger brother. Three years of training…Sasuke had grown strong. Nonetheless, the comment seemed to rile his little brother.

"You haven't changed," Sasuke said. "Especially those cold, merciless eyes of yours."

Itachi scoffed. "You're not going to scream and charge at me like last time? Looks like you've learned a little bit."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed, and within a blink of an eye, he had disappeared from sight. A jolt of electric chakra suddenly pierced Itachi from behind, thenthe single shaft split into ten.

"You know nothing," snarled Sasuke, "about me, about what hatred can make me do…"

"True…" said Itachi almost lazily. "You have grown much stronger." His shadow clone began to fade into crows. "Tomorrow…meet me at the old Uchiha hideout. We will settle this there."

The shadow clone's experiences joined the real Itachi's as he sat in the comfort of the cabin. He opened his eyes, pleased with his performance. His breakfast, barely touched, stood cluttered on the table next to him. Miho's share of porridge was growing steadily colder but, surprisingly enough, she was still sleeping.

Itachi looked at her still profile. Though Miho had reported to him occasionally that her weight was normal, he found that hard to believe. The last several weeks of intense surgical training and whatever had happened before that with Konoha seemed to have taken a toll on her. She seemed perpetually tired and last night had proved to him that she was indeed thinner than he remembered her to be. It worried him.

As Miho breathed in and out, a short wisp of hair fluttered up and down with every breath. This reminder that she was alive did little to assuage Itachi's concern for her. Numbly, he thought that in twenty-four hours, he would be dead, and he had to think about what would become of Miho. She was feverishly preparing for his surgery, and Itachi felt a pang of guilt knowing that it would never come to fruition. Miho had caught on to the sense that Itachi had no desire to live and seemed to be doing everything she could to prevent his death from happening. Perhaps it would have been kinder of him to tell her to stop, that her efforts were meaningless—but telling her this meant that he needed to provide a plausible explanation and consequently The Truth, which he could not.

What would Miho do once he was gone? Would she cry? Would she hate him? Would she forgive him if she knew everything that he had long withheld?

No, she would not. She would hate him even more if she knew The Truth because it would solidify the way he had treated her his entire life, reminding her that she had never been the most important factor in his life; that even after years of blind loyalty, he would throw her away for Konoha and for Sasuke. It was better that Miho did not know The Truth.

But if Sasuke killed him, Miho would undoubtedly hate Sasuke with every fiber of her body. Could Miho kill Sasuke? Sasuke was stronger than Miho, but strength was not everything. Miho was smart and more levelheaded than Sasuke. One step could lead to death. If she did kill Sasuke, it would undermine everything that Itachi had done for Sasuke's protection. If Sasuke killed Miho on the other hand…

Itachi sighed and massaged his temples. Another factor to take into consideration.

Kisame's chakra moved from his bedroom to the living room. Itachi stood up and also went to the living room, making sure to shut the door quietly so that Miho would not awaken.

"Good morning, Itachi-san," said Kisame. "She still sleeping?"

"So it seems," said Itachi. "Kisame-san, a word with you outside, please."

"We are outside."

"Outside the cabin. Miho could wake up any second. I'd like to make sure our conversation does not fall on her ears."

Kisame looked perplexed but obliged. Once the two of them were outside, Kisame asked,

"What's going on that you'd need to hide it from her?"

"This morning, one of my Kage Bunshin ran into Sasuke. He has a competent team of three shinobi with him as well, all of them who are Orochimaru's specimen. Tomorrow, I will go and meet him at the old Uchiha compound."

"Tomorrow?"

Itachi nodded.

Kisame looked dubious. "You're going to fight him now?"

"Mm."

"Couldn't this wait until after your surgery? Miho-san said that your heart is operating at only fifty percent. The surgery could set it right completely."

"Kisame-san," said Itachi in the driest voice he could manage, "I am confident that I do not need my full strength to deal with Sasuke."

"True, but this battle will exacerbate your current condition and that will set Miho's surgery plan back even further. You can push this battle off for another week at the least."

Itachi shook his head. "Some matters require timely and immediate attention. Sasuke will not wait, and the longer he waits, the more dangerously closer he is to upsetting more of Akatsuki's plans. He has already killed Deidara."

"Face it, Deidara was the weakest out of all of us," said Kisame sourly. "You don't need to worry about the remaining members when right now, you're in the worst state out of all of us. Delay the fight."

"I cannot."

"Why?" persisted Kisame.

"Because," said Itachi tersely, "my eyesight has deteriorated to the point that I can hardly see something two feet away from me. I need my brother's eyes in order to cure this impending blindness."

"…Your _what_?"

"The Mangekyou Sharingan is a great and fearsome power bestowed onto a very special class of Uchiha," explained Itachi. "However, its power comes at the price of the user's vision."

"You're going _blind_? And you never told any of us?"

"I am very accomplished at hiding things I want hidden," said Itacih dully. "It is a particularly useful skill of mine."

"Of all people, how has Miho-san not—"

"Miho is much more preoccupied with my heart condition," interrupted Itachi, "and rightfully so, because it is much more dangerous. I have managed to hide my eyesight from her because it's not something I want to be nagged about when I know how to obtain the cure. It was just the matter of when."

"The cure? There's a cure for blindness? You could make a fortune off of that," said Kisame acerbically.

"It's specific to the Mangekyou condition," said Itachi, ignoring Kisame's clear sarcasm. "For centuries, the Mangekyou's side effect has been countered by the implantation of a fresh set of Uchiha eyes…those of a blood relative."

Kisame was finally beginning to understand.

"So you need Sasuke-kun's eyes to fix your blindness."

"Yes. It should not be difficult to procure, but for obvious reasons, Miho would be strongly against this. She still harbors affection for my foolish little brother…it would be best if we kept this plan to gouge out Sasuke's eyes away from her."

"I see. And you need me because…?"

"Sasuke has a capable team of shinobi. They are nothing too difficult, but not trivial, either. I would like you to ensure that they do not interfere with my fight with Sasuke."

"Easily done. What will you do about Miho then, to ensure she doesn't interfere?"

"That is hardly an issue."

Kisame nodded again, understanding. "Fine. Is that it?"

"Mm."

"Good. I'm going to be gone then—I'll meet you in the old Uchiha compound tomorrow morning."

"Where are you going?"

"Miho-san has completed her wonderful experimentation and has asked me for another favor," said Kisame. "I have to clean things up."

Itachi knew exactly what Kisame did to "clean up" and chose not to dwell too long on the prospect when Kisame seemed to be in an excellent mood. Perhaps Itachi would pray for their poor unnamed souls later…but then, he remembered that he would also be dying the next day, and then decided that someone else would have to do the job for all of them. The thought of his impending death surfaced at the most unexpected times, surreal and hard to digest.

Kisame turned to leave.

"Kisame-san."

"Mm?"

"I do not anticipate that Sasuke will prove to be capable of besting me tomorrow. Nonetheless…"

Kisame knew where he was going. "Itachi-san, if there is the slightest possibility of Sasuke-san being able to kill you tomorrow, delay the fight until after Miho has cured you. Your eyesight can wait."

"…Fate does not change her course for the sake of individuals," said Itachi. "I am a man who merely prepares for all possible scenarios, regardless of their unlikelihood. It is how I have survived."

"I know, but this is something you can control."

"Kisame-san, why do you insist on challenging me?" said Itachi coldly, his eyes gleaming red.

"…Itachi-san, sometimes I wonder exactly what you think of Miho-san."

This was not what Itachi had been expecting. He knew Kisame could kill Miho without a second thought, yet the last several weeks had shown a slight change in how Kisame treated her. Providing her with prisoners, even advocating for her in front of Deidara and Tobi. Of course, Itachi did not forget that this was all for his own benefit—Kisame had also been the one to insist on killing Miho after she had come close to slicing Itachi's spinal cord.

Nevertheless, the inquiry seemed out-of-place.

"You are hardly a sentimental man, Kisame-san," said Itachi. "Why the sudden question?"

"I'm not sentimental, but I'm not stupid," he said dourly. "I do not care about her, but even I feel sorry for her at some points. You're throwing her…three years of planning out the window to fight your little brother."

"I'm not 'throwing them out the window,' so to speak," said Itachi in a steely tone. "I am merely adjusting her agenda."

"You are jeopardizing your own life and therefore her efforts," replied Kisame. "You are just as conscious of it as I am—perhaps even more so. Don't you find it funny that I'm speaking up for her now?"

"Of course I find it funny," said Itachi icily. "I find it laughable to see that my partner of nearly ten years is finally showing some compassion. What was it you always told me, Kisame-san? The foundational moral of S-Class criminals is to have none?"

Kisame did not reply.

"If anything," continued Itachi, "what you're saying now borders dangerously close to 'morals.'"

"I'm not being moral. I'm being…"

"What?" said Itachi with infuriating superiority. "You're being human?"

A significant tension rose between the two of them. They had been known to be the pair that got along best in Akatsuki—perhaps it was because both of them had slaughtered their brethren and could therefore understand something about each other—or perhaps it was because both of them knew intrinsically that their orders came from the villages that they had thought they could trust. Kisame had warned Itachi countless times not to cross him, and Itachi knew that Kisame's bite was worth more than his bark, yet Itachi could not yield now. His Sharingan swirled into its Mangekyou form, and for a split second, Kisame's hand twitched to reach for Samehada.

Several seconds passed. Kisame was too proud to retract what he had already stated as a fundamental law. They would either fight, or Kisame would yield. Itachi was prepared for either.

"Fine," said Kisame at last. "I'll stop asking. What else do you want?"

"I did not mean to make things tense between us, Kisame-san. There are merely things that I cannot fully explain even if I wanted to. I must meet Sasuke tomorrow."

"I get it already," said Kisame curtly. "What did you want?"

"…Miho has been Akatsuki's prisoner for long enough. If I die…I do not want her to continue suffering at our hands."

"You want me to let her go?" said Kisame. "You know I can't do that—she knows too much."

"She knows nothing that Konoha does not know already. Hatake Kakashi—"

"No, Itachi. I can't hand her over."

From so many years of knowing Kisame, Itachi knew when he was being stubborn for the sake being stubborn or actually being serious. Kisame's tone had taken on an edge and after getting so close to a skirmish, Itachi was asking for too much. Kisame's loyalty resided with Akatsuki. No matter how much Kisame invested in Itachi's health, and had therefore made exceptions for Miho's existence, Kisame had done it all for the benefit of Akatsuki. Should Itachi no longer be in the picture, Miho would be nothing but a loose end to tie up and cut. Sentiment. Kisame was right—he was not sentimental, he was just not stupid.

"Then I ask you do the job yourself," said Itachi after a pause. "Don't play with your food like you always do. Make it quick and painless."

Kisame nodded. "Leave it to me."

* * *

When Miho woke up, she was as indifferent toward Itachi as ever, as if the night before had never happened. Itachi could not help but feel as if her daily cycle of emotions had settled into a routine—nonchalant in the morning, passionate at night.

"I'm going to make some finishing touches to the operation room," she said, shouldering her bag and preparing to leave. "I'll be back later."

"Kisame is cleaning things up right now," said Itachi. "It's best not to disturb him in the middle of his…fun."

"Then I'll go and gather some herbs."

It was clear that she wanted to leave his presence, but she did not know what Itachi was planning. It was his last day. She could not leave him now, when he needed her the most. He caught her wrist before she reached for the door.

"Is my company so distasteful?" he said lightly. "You have been eager to get rid of me lately. If a day were to come when you did not have this opportunity to enjoy my presence, surely you would regret your actions now?"

She turned around to face him, her gaze resolute.

"Everything I'm doing now," she said, "is to ensure that that day will not come."

"…I know," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

The action caught her by surprise and her gaze grew suspicious.

"What are you doing?"

"Mm?"

"You don't do things like that," she said coolly. "Not unless you have a motive."

"Why are you constantly so wary of what I do? I have no motives, Miho. You have worked hard for the last several weeks. I have troubled you greatly—I only wanted to convey my appreciation."

She did not look convinced, so Itachi brought his hand up to her cheek.

"Kisame will be absent today," he said. "I would like to enjoy your company for the time. Will you indulge me?"

She did not answer immediately, instead studying him half-appraisingly, half-amused. Itachi did his best to emulate what he hoped could be considered a "puppy-dog" look. Judging from Miho's expression, it was not a look that suited his features.

"Goodness, what is wrong with you…fine. I suppose I've been hard enough on you."

"You have," he agreed. "I have repented, goddess."

"Itachi, if you say one more creepy thing like that, I'm going back to my herb picking."

Itachi chuckled and kissed her gently. Miho sighed and dropped her bag to the ground before wrapping her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Itachi's hands trailed to her waist and lower. He abruptly cupped the round of her bottom and she gasped, allowing Itachi to address her now exposed neck. The tail end of her gasp morphed into a quiet moan as she held him tighter with every firm but gentle caress. He guided her slowly back to the bed, but Miho hesitated.

"We just got out of bed," she said, struggling to maintain composure but swiftly succumbing to his hands as they slid under her robes. "Maybe…maybe we should do something else first."

"This suits me quite fine," he said quietly, sitting her down on the edge of the mattress.

"Itachi, we—"

"Miho."

Perhaps he was having more difficulty composing himself than he thought. There was something in his voice that made Miho look up at him, worried.

"May I?" he asked softly.

Miho looked as if she wanted to say something, but Itachi only returned her gaze passively. Right when he thought she would refuse, she grabbed the edges of his shirt and brought it over his head. Without another word, he climbed over her and dragged the drapes closed behind him. There was only one day left.

* * *

"You were fourteen, Itachi."

"I thought I'd already turned fifteen."

"No. Your birthday was several weeks later."

His hand ghosted up and down Miho's spine, dancing across the surface of her pale, smooth skin. She rarely showed him the extent of her true body, no matter how passionate the sex was. Some part of him marveled at her self-control; the other worried that he was not performing quite as well as he thought he was if Miho was still able to maintain the bare vestiges of her chakra so precisely. He looked at her now, though, and knew that some parts of her chakra control were second nature to her: suppressing her chakra signature completely, hiding the scars of her torture, and sensing for the disturbances of chakra around them.

They were talking about the past. The road down memory lane was one that Itachi often had difficulty traveling down. Miho remembered much of her childhood with startlingly clarity, even if they were the silly, insignificant memories. Itachi, on the other hand, only flawlessly remembered things regarding his duty and mission. The emotion-laden memories…the ones from the night of the massacre and before…were blurry, whether by the natural progression of time or from his unwillingness to recall them.

"You don't even remember our first mission together," said Miho. "You're really intolerable for a husband."

"It's not like remembering our first life-or-death situation together is romantic," said Itachi dryly. "Details hardly matter, Miho."

"Quite the contrary," she said. "Details are everything—they built up to the significant events. I activated my kekkei genkai on that mission, remember?"

"Ah. Yes, I suppose that was rather significant."

"No. That was a detail. The significant event was you being an idiot and drinking my blood undiluted. Who knew that simple mistake would carry our road for so long?"

Itachi chuckled wryly. "Hardly a simple mistake…I remember being hospitalized for quite a while. I would say that was a rather fatal one…then, and now."

Miho did not reply. Itachi looked at her kindly.

"Please remind me of the other details," he said. "The ones that turned out to be significant."

"…On that mission," Miho said slowly, "we found out that our Summon was the same.

"That was an interesting turn of events," admitted Itachi. "I had not expected it either."

"I was so upset," she said with a small smile. "I hated crows to begin with and to find out that of all people I matched with, I matched with you? It was devastating."

"They are not so bad, crows."

"No, they aren't," agreed Miho. "I have grown fond of them…but at the moment, I wanted nothing more than to Summon ninja hounds, like Kakashi."

"Hm. That's the first time I've heard you admit that you liked Kakashi."

"Like," she corrected. "He is a good man."

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" chided Itachi.

She shot him a smirk. "Perhaps."

Itachi smiled wearily. "He is a good man. Haven't you regretted—"

"Stop," she said sharply, all traces of playfulness evaporating. "Don't say another word. You know I wasn't being serious."

He obliged. "Forgive me. That was an inappropriate turn of the conversation."

Miho sighed and brought an arm around his shoulder.

"You know," she said quietly, "that I would do anything for you. Whether or not I regret doesn't matter…I don't think I ever had much of a choice to begin with."

He wanted to say that she always had a choice, but resisted. More than anyone, he understood what it meant not to have a choice.

"Our Summon…" he said, "what do you make of it?"

"Crows? I already said I was fond of them."

"Yes, but…they are interesting creatures."

Miho let the silence linger as Itachi collected his thoughts.

"They say that the animal you Summon is a reflection of yourself, to some capacity. There are obvious ones—like Kisame's Summon."

"Let me guess," said Miho, deadpan, "his is a minnow."

"…Naturally."

Miho laughed. "Orochimaru's is a snake, vile and cunning…Kakashi's a hound, resourceful and loyal…the Godaime's is a slug. That's a bit different—she's hardly fat or…squishable."

"Katsuyu is a historical Summon known for its healing abilities. No other Summon is capable of that. I'm surprised you can't Summon her."

"Shows that the role of the greatest medic in the world rests with the Godaime Hokage," said Miho. "Such a robust Summon is something I'm not worthy of."

"So you were stuck with the inglorious crow."

"As were you."

"…So then, what do you make of it?" asked Itachi.

"…My first thought was that they are not aesthetically pleasing. Of course, that was a child's complaint. I think what truly registered was a visceral reaction to something deeper…a sign."

"Of?"

"Of something…morbid. Something about my personality…they are so traditionally thought of as messengers of death, I thought that either I would be a great curse to those around me, or I would see much death in my lifetime." Miho shifted on the mattress. "I suppose neither of those are incorrect, in retrospect."

"You think you are a curse?" said Itachi.

Miho looked at him. "Sometimes, I think you believe I am. As if I never fail to get in your way."

Itachi did not answer for several seconds.

"Crows are very misunderstood creatures," he said finally. "Humans make it their job to chase crows away, even creating scarecrows for this sole purpose. They think crows feast on the dead, and in literature they are always portrayed as an ill omen…but they are actually the most intelligent kind of birds. Our crows, when compared to so many other Summons, exhibit the best of all traits. They are loyal, resourceful, smart, yet they are quiet, blending in with their surroundings and the night. They seek no glory, attention, or fame. They are everything that a true shinobi needs. Yet, they are cursed."

"…So what do you think that says about us?" said Miho wearily.

Itachi rolled over on his side. He studied her face. Needless to say, he found her beautiful, yet how curious it was that Fate had given Miho such an average face for her personality. Many things in life, she deserved better. Yet, as he stared at her now, he could not deny that in his entire life, he had not been remotely attracted to any other woman.

"Did you know the first time I laid eyes on you was the day you graduated from the Academy?" he said, unwilling to answer Miho's question.

She did not pursue an answer and instead smiled faintly. "Is that so?"

"You looked unhappy."

"Probably because my father had given me some ridiculous lecture that morning," she said. "I was first in my class and he wasn't satisfied. I practically gave up after that. Why were you there?"

"I was just passing by and Hiroki-sensei waved me to approach. He said his daughter was graduating. I had never met you before, so I was curious."

"…And? What did you think?"

"I…it's hard to say. I just remember being intrigued. You were…nine, I believe? Still the youngest in your class. I thought we would've understood each other in that respect."

"You didn't introduce yourself," she said, thinking. "I think the first time I actually spoke to you was right before my ANBU exam."

"Naturally, I was shy in the face of such great beauty."

Miho scoffed. "Shy? You had such a way with words with we started talking…you were hardly shy. It's funny though."

"What?"

"…That was also the first day I met Kakashi," she said. "Just seems funny that it could've been the first day I met you as well."

"I suppose I should've introduced myself sooner, then. We seemed to have wasted several years together."

"Who knows if I would've given you the time of day," said Miho. She leaned in and brushed her lips against his cheek. "It has been a long time."

"Yes…nearly ten years since our first conversation." Itachi let out a breath. "It seems like several lifetimes ago…when we were children."

"Such world-weary words for someone in his mid-twenties."

"I have accomplished several lifetimes of work in these twenty-something years. I hardly remember what it was like to be a child."

"Mm…you were always so hard to deal with. Whenever you were in front of your parents or my father…it was like you were an adult. An equal. I didn't know how a fourteen-year-old boy could be so…"

"Arrogant?"

"No…pitiful."

"Pitiful?"

"As if your childhood had been truncated. As if from the moment you were born, you were expected to be something. Someone great and powerful and…and you weren't allowed to make mistakes. You were expected to grow, but could never do trial-and-error. How could you ever grow that way? Mistakes make you learn who you are. Sometimes, I just felt like you were so lost."

Itachi made no effort to reply, even though the conversation was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Why was it that, even without a set of journals to read, Miho seemed to understand him much more than she let on? The lopsided relationship that she always feared seemed to have turned on its head. Nevertheless, Miho continued.

"Only in front of me," she said, staring on the ceiling, "did I feel like you could revert to a child. The times when we snuck away and joked and pretended like you weren't some ridiculous prodigy…only then did I feel like you were even making an effort to find yourself. If not for those moments…I do not think I would the way I feel for you now. Your actions, killing your clan and joining Akatsuki, and your honor…they do not match up. Nor do they match up with the struggling child you were—the one you should've been. Had it not been for those times that I remember so vividly…I would have abandoned you long ago."

A silence followed her words as Itachi contemplated this revelation. Miho could have abandoned him. This notion was one that he never dwelled on—something in him knew that she never could, never would, because this inexplicable emotion called _love_ was something that he could exploit to no end. Yet only now did he realize that this devotion's basis was shaky, a series of childhood beliefs that he could have crushed somehow, sparing her the kind memories of the last three years that would ultimately make the coming morning much less hard to bear.

"Miho."

"Mm?"

"Crows have another significance. They are signs of divine intervention, of something uncontrollable in the hands of mere mortals. They…they represent rebirth…the possibility of hope after death."

"…What are you saying?"

"Only that you are not my curse. And that the crow…it is our Summon—both of ours—for a reason." He shifted on the mattress so that he, too, faced the ceiling. "I have been fortunate to share it with you. Whether or not you can say the same for me…is a different matter entirely."

Surprisingly, Miho did not answer—and he knew that she agreed.

* * *

They ate a simple meal—whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner was unclear—and returned to the bed. Drapes shut, in the dark, their bodies writhing, breaths spent, hearts misplaced. He knew Miho could sense that something was wrong but was too afraid to venture and explore it. If only she knew that this issue was immediate, that pushing it off for now was fatal…but Itachi knew that Miho liked nothing less than to discuss his pathetic will to live. He knew it disturbed her, because if he did not live, then she had no reason to. Perhaps it was because he knew this that he had asked Kisame to kill her…though it would be more merciful to do it himself.

"We…we need to stop," Miho panted.

"Why?" His hand slipped under her torso and brought her up on her knees.

"I need to…mm…stop it, Itachi—"

Her hands gripped the sheets as he touched her without reservations—he relished the feeling of her burning skin, the sounds of her every labored breath and moan. It was always during sex that Itachi felt incredibly…full, whole, in some way, contrary to how he felt about his body his entire life. Though most people found sex to be an activity where they lost all sense of self—this was surely true in Miho's case—Itachi found himself to be thinking with startling clarity. He seemed very much in control, knowing instinctively what to do to bring Miho to the edge of delirium and have her forget absolutely everything about him except for what he was capable of making her feel.

He brought her to climax before releasing himself. When he finally let Miho go, she collapsed onto the mattress, perspiration lining her entire body as her eyes fluttered closed. Itachi laid beside her, holding her from behind. The minutes ticked by and slowly, Miho's breathing returned to a normal, rhythmic pattern as she fell asleep in his arms, exhausted.

Itachi found himself overwhelmed with a great weariness as well. He gazed at Miho's back and felt a wave of frustration wash over him—what was he doing? Why was he not taking this time to urge Miho to run, to leave? And even if he could not bring himself to chase her away, why was he merely seeking her touch, indulging in this carnal pleasure—when there was infinitely more to say, when there was too much that Miho needed to know?

Miho stirred and turned around so that she was facing him. Itachi brought a hand to her cheek and caressed it gently, thinking.

He was a man who prepared for every situation. In the event that Kisame would not or could not kill her…he owed Miho at least something in death.

Careful not to disturb her, he got out of bed and dressed himself. The day had waned and the sun shone with the deep reds of sunset. Exactly where the day had gone was beyond Itachi—he and Miho had not left the bed for more than a few minutes.

He borrowed one of Miho's Summoning scrolls and Summoned the journal that they had used to communicate for the past half-year. The feel of the worn pages brought a weary smile to his lips; for ten years, now, this journal had served as their medium. It was odd and ironic that the personality analysis game shinobi often played as part of their duty had been played most vehemently between the two people on the face of the planet who wanted nothing more than to fully understand each other, to…to—yes, he could admit it at least to himself at this point—to love each other as best as they could.

He scanned the filled pages briefly, knowingly, and arrived at the last page that had been written on. Miho had written a note that he had not yet read.

_Itachi._

_I'm not really sure when you'll read this. I suppose there's not much of a reason for you to open this journal right now, especially when you see me everyday. Knowing this, there's not really a particular "best" time for you to read this. I suppose there are things that are easier for me to write than for me to say to you face-to-face, especially when nowadays, being in your presence puts a strain on me that wasn't there before. I don't know what happened, but after that night I saw you nearly die right in front of me, something changed. I'm not really sure what it was—almost as if I love you less because of it—but I know that's not true. It's not something I can describe in one particular word or phrase. I suppose the only way to put it is that seeing you care so little for yourself made something in me give up. _

_You know this, Itachi. I have fought for you so hard—so, so, hard. I have fought for what is between us, I have fought for myself, I have fought for this love or relationship or marriage or whatever you want to call it—I have fought. _

_That night, I felt like I had lost. Worse, I lost to you. Why, of all things or all people, you are my enemy is beyond me. I have tried to ignore this growing realization as best as I could—I attributed my loss __to other factors beyond either your or my control. But Itachi, I can't. I can't ignore it. I can't completely ignore that you don't care enough. _

_Itachi, this realization hurts me in a way beyond your imagination. What is it that you are putting ahead of me? Of yourself? Of us? I don't understand. What exactly are you fighting for? _

_I know this has to do with the reason behind the massacre. I know that in Konoha, there was a significant tension between the government and the Uchiha clan, one that you were caught between. But Itachi, no matter how much further I dig for information, I can come up with no answer because that answer lies with you and I know you won't give it to me. And for all these years—eight years, Itachi, five years of which we were apart, three of which we have hardly been able to spend together—all these years, you have fought for this reason that you refuse to let go. Why? _

_Do you realize that on this planet, I am the only person who can accept you regardless of everything? You have killed me, tortured me, wounded me in ways that few shinobi have ever suffered through—yet I still love you. You say I have had a choice in all this—but Itachi, I don't, and no matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise, you didn't let me have a choice. I love you, and I know you love me, no matter how much you try to hide it. But the thing is, I love you more than anything that this world has to offer me, but you love something else more. I don't even know if it is love. Is it duty? Is it belief? Morals? Nearly ten years, I have loved you. Since we were children, since we knew nothing to now, when I still know so little and you hold all the cards—even now, I love you. Do you so detest the life I could offer you, of peace, quiet, and rest? If you tell me everything, Itachi, I can bring us back to Konoha. We can live together, we can make that dream I so hesitantly told you become reality. Your way is not the only way, Itachi. I can give you everything. _

_Please take it. _

Itachi breathed in, deeply, and let it out tremulously. Through the drapes, he could see Miho's still profile, quiet and sleeping. He turned his attention back to the pages. Her handwriting was shaky but her words carried a soft resolution. He read them over and over, until he realized that some words had become blurred. Only then did he become aware of the tears that silently rolled down his face. Tears? How long had it been since he had shed these signs of weakness?

She could give him everything.

Yet reading that sentence had made Itachi's resolve to die only stronger. He could not take Miho's offer…he had planned for this long ago, and he knew what he was about to do was right. It was what Konoha needed, what Sasuke needed, and it was for these two things that Itachi could forsake everything. He knew this. He did not deserve Miho's offer.

Itachi suddenly felt very serene. His tears stopped falling, and his heart seemed to beat steadily, unperturbed. He picked up a pen and after a pause, began to write on a spare sheet of paper, not in the journal. Three times he crumpled up the paper and burned it. Three times he started over. Each word needed to be perfect. He could not betray his emotions or hers.

It had been a long, long time since he had taken so much time to write something. When he was finished, the sun had set and the crickets in the creek nearby had begun to chirp their sad melody. The Uchiha hideout was far away; he needed to set out now to reach it in time.

Itachi placed his hands together. _Kuchiyose no Jutsu_!

The female crow Itachi favored appeared in a small puff of smoke. Itachi brought a finger to his lips, indicating for her to be quiet.

"It has been a long time, Itachi-kun," said the crow.

"It has," he agreed.

"Miho-san has Summoned my brother rather often over the last few weeks, looking for you. You are a hard one to find if you don't want to be caught."

"That I am," chuckled Itachi.

"So what do you need this time?"

"A favor, as always." Itachi paused briefly before continuing. "Tomorrow, I am going to die."

The crow looked at him steadily. Itachi smiled.

"That is a good, faithful reaction," he said.

"I have long known that this day would come. It seems that Miho-san does not yet know."

"And neither you nor your brother have not told her."

"We are impartial," she answered. "We are merely Summons. We do as we are bid. We are not here to judge."

"I see. The impartial divine," said Itachi with a tinge of irony. "Only when you are impartial, watching us struggle without lifting a finger to aid us, are you just."

"…Do you resent us, Itachi-kun?"

"No, forgive me," he said. "I understand my position, and I accept it."

"…Most humans are unlike you," she said. "There are those who fight tooth-and-nail for what they want, no matter how unlikely the odds are." She glanced over in Miho's direction. "She is one of those."

"She is. I Summoned you for a favor."

"Yes?"

"Whether or not Miho-san survives past tomorrow is unclear. If she does…I would like you to direct her to this journal. I want her to read what I've written at the end."

"I see. Do you have a particular time you want me to tell her?"

"No. I feel like you will be a good judge of the best time."

"Very well, I'll do what you say. But Itachi-kun."

"Mm?"

"Do you want her to survive?"

"…Truthfully, no. It would be better if her life ended sooner than later. She has suffered enough, and if she continues to live, she will prove to be a threat to Sasuke."

"Then why do you not end her life yourself?"

Itachi scoffed tiredly. "I have played God with enough lives, haven't I? I have killed her once. I do not think I have the strength or right to do so again."

* * *

The moon shone brightly when Itachi was ready to leave. Miho had fallen into a deep slumber. Though it was wiser to leave her alone without any last words, Itachi could not resist. He could not convince himself that he was not reluctant to leave.

He climbed over her and shook her shoulder gently.

She stirred and groaned. "Leave me alone."

"Haven't you slept enough?" he said, smiling slightly.

"I need to sleep…" she murmured. "You tired me out…"

"It couldn't have been that bad."

"I'm tired. Just leave me alone."

"Didn't you say you needed to do something several hours ago? Did you forget all of a sudden?"

Miho glared at him and sat up.

"I needed to do this ages ago," she scowled, noting the late hour. "I don't know what's wrong with you today…we haven't had such an unproductive day in ages."

"I daresay you enjoyed it."

Miho flushed. "Fine, I did. I'll give you that."

She kissed him briefly on the cheek and reached for her robes.

"I needed to do some preparatory check-ups and healing for your surgery," she said, sliding them over her thin body. "Sit down."

He obeyed and waited as Miho brought her hand to chest.

"After this, do you want to eat dinner?"

"A bit late for dinner," he said as the warm chakra enveloped his heart.

"Yes, I know I slept through most of today," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I've been working a lot lately. I needed today to rest."

"I know," said Itachi. "You have been busy. I wish we could have spent some more time together these last few weeks."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"…Why are you asking all of a sudden?"

"You've been acting strangely all day. You're almost never this…clingy. Is something going on?"

He waited as she healed him. As always, strength seemed to enter him as Miho continued the procedure, and though Itachi knew she was only clearing his chakra pathways and repairing what little she could, he knew it would help him last as long as he could in the battle with Sasuke.

"Itachi?" she prompted.

"…I have had Kage Bunshin stationed around the perimeter for the last several days," said Itachi slowly. "This morning…I ran into Sasuke."

The hand at Itachi's chest slipped suddenly, causing him to wince.

"Miho," he said urgently.

"S-sorry," she said, immediately repairing any damage that he might have incurred. "…Did you talk to him?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

Itachi did not answer. Miho stopped healing him and kneeled in front of him.

"Itachi, you can_not_ fight him now," she said fiercely.

"Miho, it will be fine."

"Are you crazy?!" She stood up, eyes flashing, all traces of weariness disappearing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Your heart is operating at less than fifty percent right now—if you face him now, you will die!"

"Do you have such little faith in me?" he said.

"Itachi, you can't! You can't—listen to me, you are stronger than he is but going in now would be like entering the battle when mortally wounded. Itachi, you won't survive—Sasuke is strong and—"

"Miho."

He said her name with such finality that Miho stopped. She looked at him, wide-eyed and fearful. What was she frightened of? Him dying, or him betraying her? Or were the two actually the same?

"I know," he said gently. "I know already."

Tears began streaming down Miho's face as his words registered.

"You can't do this," she said. "You can't do this to me, not _now_ of all times—I have found everything, Itachi, I can cure you, I can bring us back to Konoha—you can't do this to me now—"

He touched her cheek gently. "I must, Miho. I cannot ask you to understand because you do not know everything. I should have left while you were sleeping…but I could not risk you waking up and stopping me. Additionally…I wanted to speak to you one last time."

"Shut up," she said, retreating from him. "I don't want to hear them. You can't tell me this now, when I've done everything for you—"

He stood up abruptly and held her. She struggled fiercely, but Itachi did not let go; her efforts were soon exhausted and she was reduced to tears, but she did not hold him back. He knew she could not bring herself to do it because doing so would mean accepting, and he knew she would never accept.

"Miho, I have to go," he said quietly. "I just wanted to tell you several things before I did. Miho, it is not that I don't love you. I do. I love you and I cannot deny it."

The sound that Miho made was one that Itachi had never heard before—a cross between a sob and a strangled scream—and it shook him to his very core. She pushed against him, refusing to be held but he refused to release her—

"All these years," she cried, "all this time—"

"I know," he murmured. "I know."

"So what?!" she shrieked. "So what if you know?! You don't care!"

"I do care," he said. "I do. Please believe me."

"Liar." The word shook with such intense hatred that Itachi could not help but grimace. "That's all you've ever been. So what if you care? You choose to do nothing differently. You'd rather leave me to suffer while you go die."

He heard her breathe in shallowly and her body shook with a tremendous effort to stay standing.

"So what?" she whispered. "You're leaving me. You're going to leave me alone…when I have given you everything."

Itachi had no other words.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

She scoffed weakly. "You are so cruel. Why wake me up? What last words? Do you just want to see me in agony?"

"Miho—"

"Don't. Don't say you love me. You don't. Not enough."

"I love you as much as I could in this lifetime," he said. "I know it's not enough. But it was all I could afford, Miho. All I could give you. And I am sorry for it. I will not ask for your forgiveness, not this time."

Upon hearing this, Miho's sobs renewed in strength—she knew as well, that after years and years of asking for her forgiveness of the insignificant things, he could not ask her forgiveness for everything else—his betrayal, twice now, and yes, of leading her to believe all these years that a happy ending was possible. Miho's body seemed to lose all strength and she collapsed in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Miho, I—"

She gripped his sleeves tightly, holding him as fast as she could as she looked up at him, her gaze fierce and fearless and almost deranged.

"I can keep you here," she said. "I will make you stay—you won't go—I—"

He kissed her, barely long enough to count as lingering.

"You can't," he whispered. "You could never keep me here. 'Here' in my arms…neither you nor I exist. Just like in this world…you and I could not exist. Should not have existed. You should have died that night when you were pinned to that tree. Now…it is my time, Miho."

His body began to melt into the shadows in the shape of crows. When Miho realized this, the same sound of desperation erupted from her throat and she tried to grasp wildly at the feathers, the figments of her imagination as Itachi began to disappear from the genjutsu as well.

"Illusions are illusions," he said, his voice echoing as his presence began to disappear. "But what is real may only be the illusion we give ourselves, and what are illusions may very well be the realest expression of our desires. Only in our dreams do we exist together, and how we exist in our dreams is very much real. But this is the last time you will see me, Miho, in our illusions or otherwise. You have given me a happiness that I did not deserve in this lifetime. I just wanted to say…thank you. And for the last time…forgive me."

Before the last feather disappeared, he heard an anguished cry and knew that he had made a mistake at the end again, that he should not have subjected Miho to those last words but he wanted her to hear what she already knew, that he was sincere, that he was grateful…that he was cruel.

Somewhere at the crossroads of reality and illusions, the crows cawed and the gods dictated in their book of all things Just and Fair that Uchiha Itachi had, after many trials and temptations, finally completed his task.


	26. Rights

_free talk: thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter—as depressing as it was, i'm glad so many people felt strongly enough to react to it. chapters are really hard to write without itachi... he's such a good balance for miho that without him, miho seems completely irrational. but i suppose she has good reason for it._

_hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review!_

* * *

**Chapter 26: Rights**

"Now."

She was lying on a bed. The sheets were cold and there were no indents on the mattress save for the one she was making. There was the sound of people breathing around her and the stench of rainwater filled the room. She felt very cold, despite the layers piled on top of her…and very empty.

Miho opened her eyes slowly, blinking the grime and salty residue of tears out of her eyelashes. The room was full of people whose chakra signatures she recognized, most vaguely but one, very well. Five, six, seven Konoha shinobi…plus a dog.

She made no movement to acknowledge their presence. She merely remained still, gazing up at the ceiling, her body feeling as if it were carved out of the stone mountain surrounding Konoha. The drapes to her bed had been pulled aside but the room was still dark; she could not tell if it were night or day, as outside, a thunderstorm brewed and the rain viciously pelted the walls of the cabin.

She was neither hungry nor thirsty. In fact, she felt absolutely nothing—no panic, no fear, just a stale kind of numbness. Normally, she would have been able to guess how long she had been trapped in a genjutsu based on the condition of her body; now, though, she had no idea.

"…Miho?" said Kakashi's voice, sounding very far away.

She did not answer.

"Is she okay?" said a voice she did not know.

Miho closed her eyes again, finding her state of mind somewhat surprising. It was as if she were having some kind of out-of-body experience—everything seemed so distant, and the overwhelming sorrow she expected to feel was nowhere to be found. Perhaps after what had seemed like an eternity in that genjutsu, when Itachi's figure had disappeared into crows and she had been left with a rewinding film of their life together, she had lost the energy to cry or feel anything any longer. Perhaps that had been Itachi's intention. Perhaps he'd given her some bizarre form of closure, though nothing in the genjutsu suggested that numbness was what she was supposed to feel now. Itachi had lingered on the sentimental memories that they had always tried to avoid—if anything, she should have been curled up in a ball and crying. Instead, she felt like a stale piece of bread—picked up by someone mildly hungry but cast aside once found inedible. This feeling should have made her at least angry…but even if she dared to try to feel anything, she could not.

"Miho-san?" said a female voice.

Finally, she turned her head. Closest to her was Kakashi, then Sakura and her much-too-vibrant hair. She was guarded by Naruto, and behind them were shinobi she only recognized from the Chuunin exams three years ago: Inuzuka Kiba with his dog, Hyuuga Hinata, Aburame Shino. The last was a jounin whose face she did not recognize, but whose chakra she realized to be similar to the cells of the Shodai Hokage that Orochimaru had experimented with often. The team consisted mostly of children Sasuke's age, though Miho knew Kakashi was Hokage-material and the Senju copy seemed equally formidable.

Listlessly, she turned back to the ceiling.

"Hey, don't just ignore us!" snapped Naruto.

"…How did you find me here?" Miho heard herself asking. Her voice was hoarse and her throat dry.

"We followed Uchiha Itachi's scent here," answered Kiba. "We thought it would lead us to Sasuke, but judging from the looks of it, he's not here."

Miho sat up slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae. How very, very tired she was.

"Well, where is he?" demanded Naruto. "We tried following him but got caught up with this damn Akatsuki bastard who fled when another Aloe Vera dude said that the battle was over and Itachi—"

"Naruto," interrupted Kakashi sharply.

"What?"

"…Itachi what?" said Miho mechanically.

"Do you know where Sasuke is?" said Kakashi, avoiding the answer that Miho knew already.

Miho turned her head toward him.

"Sasuke? …Do you think that if I knew where Sasuke was, I would be sitting here talking to you rather than stabbing him in the face?"

"You—"

"Naruto, shut up," said Sakura, holding him back from lunging at Miho. "Attacking her isn't going to get us anywhere. She doesn't know where he is."

"Judging from what you're saying, you already know that Uchiha Itachi is dead," said Kakashi.

She moved so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the cold, wooden floor. There was a sudden clack of thunder and for a second, she thought she heard the barest caw of a raven. She looked out the window, but there was nothing to be seen other than the rain-splattered glass and the tossing and turning of branches scratching against the window and eliciting a bloodcurdling screech.

"Uchiha Itachi is dead," she repeated, again surprised that she felt nothing. "Itachi…is dead. Killed by Sasuke. Just like he wanted."

"…The man we were fighting said something similar," said Kakashi, "that this was just what he'd predicted. Why?"

"Why?" said Miho. "Ever since he left me against that tree to die, I have been asking him that question. Do you think that even eight years later, he ever bothered to give me an answer?"

She looked at Kakashi.

"Kakashi, why are you here?"

"We followed Itachi's—"

"No. I meant, what are you going to do with me?"

"…The Godaime Hokage has issued a warrant for your arrest and immediate retrieval back to Konoha to stand at trial as a missing-nin and for interrogation on the activities of Akatsuki as well as the whereabouts of Uchiha Sasuke."

"And if I resist?"

It was the other jounin who answered. "We have permission to kill you."

"…I see. Good."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Count this as resisting, then," she said, Summoning a kunai and throwing it haphazardly at Naruto. He caught it easily and threw it aside.

"Are you crazy?" he shouted.

"A little bit. Now that I've resisted properly, Kakashi, I'd like you to do it yourself."

"What is wrong with you?!"

Miho did not reply.

"What does Akatsuki want with the Jinchuuriki?" Kakashi asked.

"I don't know," said Miho. "I wasn't supposed to know anything. The little I know, I've already told Konoha. My only role was to cure Itachi, but he didn't even let me do that. Now that he's dead, it's only a matter of time before an Akatsuki member comes to kill me. I'd like to think that Kisame would have the mercy to kill me quickly, but I'm uncertain if 'mercy' is a word that exists in Kisame's lexicon."

"We can take you back to Konoha," said Kakashi, "if you want to live—"

"Kakashi," she said wearily.

The other jounin bristled. "Senpai, she is being—"

"Not now, Yamato," said Kakashi coolly. "Let me handle it—I know her best."

"Yes," she agreed, "you do know me best. The ending is all the same for me, Kakashi. If you kill me, I'll have the pleasure of dying at the hands of someone I care for. If you refuse and try to bring me back to Konoha, I will kill myself on the way there. And if you decide to leave me here, I will stay put until Kisame or another member of Akatsuki arrives to tie up a loose end. My life is in your hands—or rather, the means of my death."

"You know that unless I am given a good reason to kill you, I won't," said Kakashi.

"…Don't make me take out one of your chuunin, Kakashi."

"They are quite competent. I imagine even you'd probably have some difficulty taking them out," he smiled, his one eye crinkling in a familiar fashion.

She knew the truth of his words. Unwilling to converse any longer, she stood up, hoping to goad one of them into action. Immediately, every shinobi except for Kakashi moved to a defensive position.

"If you won't kill me, you all should leave," she said quietly.

"Where are all the other Akatsuki hideouts?" insisted Sakura. "All the places they could have taken Sasuke-kun—"

"Again, do you think that if I knew, I would waste my time talking to you?"

"Why do _you_ want to kill Sasuke?" demanded Naruto. "You've always taken care of him—he's practically your brother!"

"…At some point, I did consider him a little brother. But I sided with the other Uchiha…and the moment Sasuke killed him, Sasuke became worthless to me."

"…You found it then?" said Kakashi. "The reason behind the Uchiha massacre?"

"You all seem to be hard of hearing today. I already told you, Itachi told me nothing."

"Then you—"

"Yes," said Miho, her voice finally taking on an edge. "All the same, I sided with him."

"Then you're crazy," snarled Naruto. "Itachi is the entire reason Sasuke left Konoha! He killed his entire family and he killed your dad too!"

The Miho of yesterday would have retorted. What did Naruto know? What did any of them know—these last three years, who had seen Itachi at his weakest moments? Their only interactions with Itachi had been in fights, when Itachi was at his cruelest and most terrifying form—but had any of them seen him in the aftermath?

Yet now, Miho could not get the words out of her mouth. They seemed so useless, effort spent and wasted that would never achieve a purpose. She had already spent enough time conversing with them, but nothing seemed to register. Who was she trying to convince that these last three years had been worth it—them, or herself?

"If what you said is true," said Naruto, "then there's no reason for us to leave. If we stay here, someone from Akatsuki will come and all we have to do is fight them and force them to take us to Sasuke."

So the boy had a brain, but it appeared to be a small one.

"Do as you wish then," she said, her voice flat and her gaze wandering back to the window.

Sakura looked at Kakashi, confused and concerned.

"Kakashi-sensei, if we're going to wait…"

"Yamato," said Kakashi, "take Kiba, Hinata, and Shino and disperse in the surrounding area. If we're going to track, we'd best use every resource. Hinata and Kiba, stay as close to the cabin as possible in the event of immediate pursuit. Shino, scatter your bugs around in a half-kilometer perimeter around the cabin. Yamato, you oversee them and adjust accordingly."

"Understood," said Yamato. "What about Naruto?"

"What about me?" bristled Naruto. "I'm gonna bash the first Akatsuki guy's face in—"

"No," said Kakashi firmly. "Akatsuki is after you and if you're here, they'll kill Miho, take you, and run. You need to stay out of sight."

"But—"

"Naruto, I need you to Summon Kage Bunshin to line the entire half-kilometer perimeter Shino's bugs will establish. Sakura, stay with the real Naruto and guard him."

"Sensei, what about you?" protested Sakura.

"I will stay here," he said.

"Kakashi," said Yamato sternly, "the Hokage warned me about this. I'm afraid we should exchange positions."

"I need to speak with her," said Kakashi. "It's best if we're alone."

"I refuse," said Yamato.

"Yamato, we do not have much time."

Yamato hesitated but at Kakashi's stern gaze, he relented.

"Fine…but I will have to report this to the Hokage."

"I'll tell her myself," assured Kakashi. "Now go."

They filed out of the room, one by one, until only she and Kakashi were left. For several minutes, neither of them said anything; she could tell that Kakashi was thinking of a million ways and one to pursue Sasuke in addition to convincing Miho to return with them.

"Mind if I change?" she said suddenly. "I don't want to die in a bathrobe."

"Certainly," said Kakashi pleasantly. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to stay in my line of sight, though. Even now, I cannot sense you."

"It's fine," she said, reaching for her gear. "I'm not modest."

Kakashi chuckled as she began to disrobe. Always the gentleman, he turned slightly so that he was not staring directly at her, but so her profile was in his peripheral vision.

"How long has it been since the battle?" she brought herself to ask, pulling a netted mesh shirt over her head.

"We've been traveling for about eight hours," he said. "The scent was weak but grew stronger as we got closer. Given that we were pursuing Itachi's scent and not Sasuke's, plus eight hours is plenty of time for them relocate, it was a long shot. I'm glad we found you though."

"Did you…" Her voice trailed off.

"Mm?"

Miho's throat had suddenly grown tight. She closed her eyes, focusing on fastening the buttons on her shirt and then pulling on her pants. The clothes fell loosely on her body, but after who-knew-how-long of being in robes, the touch of her familiar shinobi attire was oddly comforting. Her throat cleared.

"Did you see his body?" she asked.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "By the time we got there, both of them were gone."

"…I see."

Kakashi allowed her to digest this before speaking again. "You said your role was to cure him. Were you talking about his blindness?"

Miho turned to face him, a sharp pain suddenly breaking through her otherwise lack of sensation. "His blindness?"

"From extensive Mangekyou use." When Kakashi realized that Miho had no idea what he was talking about, he explained, "The price for the power that comes with the Mangekyou Sharingan is gradual loss of eyesight. Itachi gained his Mangekyou years ago—judging from the state of my own Sharingan after just a few uses, Itachi should have been nearing blindness by now. I guess you were talking about something else."

"…He never told me," she said, stunned. "I had no idea."

"A genius shinobi can hide blindness easily," said Kakashi, as if to pacify her. "If he didn't tell you, you would have never found out."

But Kakashi didn't _understand_. The state of Itachi's physical body was the _one _thing that Miho thought she knew about him without question; if she could not trust the words Itachi said, then she could only trust what she saw—but this revelation meant that she hadn't even known his medical record, and if she didn't know that, then what bit of Itachi did she actually understand?

"Miho?" prompted Kakashi.

There was a sound from the living room. In an instant, Kakashi was at her side, his arm extended in front of her as he unmasked his Sharingan.

She recognized the chakra signature, and immediately, the numb layer of apathy seemed to crack into a million pieces and several emotions suddenly began to register in her, chaotic and wild. She should not let herself to hope—but her sensing could never betray her, and Kakashi had just told her that he not seen the body. It was possible—but she had to be careful before jumping to conclusions—but she already had, because the moment she started feeling anything at all, the one emotion that ruled above all was a desperate desire to believe that yesterday had never happened and that…

"It's him," said Miho disbelievingly.

"What?"

"The chakra—it's him—"

She pushed aside Kakashi's arm and lunged for the door right as it opened. She forced herself still, daring herself to confirm what she'd sensed without preparing herself for any other result—but when she saw him, she was rewarded. The tears she had shed in the place between genjutsu and reality had exhausted her reserves and she had nothing to express this relief or shock or whatever emotion it was that raged inside her that declared, _Finally, the gods had rewarded her. They had not let Itachi die._

"Itachi," she whispered.

"You!" Behind her, Kakashi's hand crackled with the chattering sound of Chidori.

"I've kept you waiting, Miho," said Itachi—and it _was_ him, his voice, his everything. He touched her face, his fingers comforting and warm. "Forgive me."

"I thought you…they said you died," she said shakily. "I thought you left me alone, and…"

"Miho, he's not Itachi," said Kakashi urgently. "It's genjutsu—he's—!"

Itachi's hand slid down and wrapped around her throat. Before Miho could blink, he lifted her up in the air effortlessly, his grip tightening around her windpipe as his face began to melt away into a bright, orange mask.

"I'm sorry!" Tobi managed to say amidst his laughter. "I'm so sorry, Miho-san! It was just too hard to resist—that was really mean of me, wasn't it? But it was just too good of a joke and I was the _only_ one who could trick you by changing my chakra—I really had you fooled, didn't I?"

Miho gasped for air, struggling to pry Tobi's increasingly lethal grasp from her throat.

"I know you're mad, Miho-san, but I couldn't help but punish you a bit. You almost convinced Itachi! _Almost_! But he still died! Though I suppose at the end of the day…it wasn't entirely your fault."

He slackened his grip and dropped Miho. Before she hit the floor, Kakashi caught her and skidded away several feet, leaving a good bit of distance between them and Tobi as Miho recovered her breath. She had lost her barrier—she had let herself hope—how stupid, how incredibly stupid she was to think that after Itachi had done everything to say goodbye, he would return to her now, alive and well and even with his trademark, _"Forgive me."_ Something in her snapped, joining the rest of whatever had broken the night before, and Miho found herself clutching Kakashi's arm tightly to prevent herself from falling apart.

"You…_sick_ freak," she barely managed to spit out, her body shaking uncontrollably with rage.

"What?" said Tobi with nauseating innocence. "It's not like you didn't believe me for a second there! I had my next line all planned out, too, but Kakashi-san seems to be more adept at seeing through genjutsu than you are."

"Where did you take Sasuke?" said Kakashi in a steely tone.

"Where I took Itachi's body," said Tobi. "And yes, in case you're still harboring any pathetic delusions, Miho-san, he _is_ dead."

"Why are you here?" she said, her every word trembling with hatred. "Where's Kisame?"

"Kisame-senpai had other things to take care of. I would have come to retrieve you sooner, but I had to tell Sasuke-kun a story…one that I think you would like to hear as well, Miho-san."

"I'm not going to listen to any of your bullshit," she snarled, unable to rein in the anger and hurt that she had tried so hard to ignore because if they were present, that meant that everything was real, and that Itachi was actually gone— "Just take me to Sasuke so I can rip his fucking head off."

"I'm afraid Itachi's dying will won't let you," he answered silkily.

"How many fucks do you give about Itachi's _dying will_?!"

"More than you do, apparently," said Tobi dryly.

"Why aren't you just here to kill me?" she snapped. "Just kill me and be done with it—I don't want anything else!"

"I could," he said offhandedly, "but I won't. I could use you, and quite truthfully, I can make you an offer you can't resist. I know you'll want to hear why exactly Itachi rejected everything you ever gave him in favor of death."

She stared.

"…What do you mean?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, girl." Tobi's voice had taken on a deeper, darker turn. "I mean that I can tell you everything—starting from why Itachi decided to slaughter his entire family that night."

"Miho," said Kakashi in an undertone, "you can't trust what he says."

"Trust me?" said Tobi silkily. "I'm afraid you don't understand, Kakashi-san. See…" He pulled up a chair and sat down in it. "I do not _need_ Miho-san. If push comes to shove, I will just kill her and leave without another thought. Miho-san knows that this has been her role in Akatsuki from the beginning: useful, but not necessary. Which is why I am the _only_ person she should trust; I don't need anything from her, not even her life. If she chooses to listen to me, then I will have gained a minor convenience; if she does not, then I will have killed a minor inconvenience. I have no reason to lie to you, Miho-san, unlike Kakashi-san, who will say anything to keep you alive. Instead, I am offering to give you the answers you have wanted for the last eight years. You can only win. "

"What difference does it make?" she said more to herself than to Tobi. "I only wanted the answer so Itachi could get a pardon. If he's dead…I have no use for it anymore."

Tobi, surprisingly, did not answer immediately. He looked at between her and Kakashi, musing, before heaving a sigh and standing up and approaching them. Kakashi pulled her back, but they were already backed against a wall and there was no room to flee. Chakra began to flow through Kakashi's body, concentrating specifically in his legs and his right arm in case they needed to fight, but both of them could sense that Tobi exuded no malice. Instead, he stopped several feet in front of them and bent down so that he was eye-to-eye with Miho. She saw the gleam of the Sharingan and felt an incredible revulsion for the blood-colored irises Itachi had always known better to hide from her.

"I know you don't want to live," he said to her, his voice nearly a purr. "I know how hard these last three years have been on you—I have watched you and Itachi this entire time and to think that he kept you here, all this time, and refused to tell you anything…how very cruel of him, no? I know you want it all to end. The pain is too much to bear. I could end everything for you. If you truly want death, I swear that I will give it to you. But I can offer you something else, Chiaki Miho, something far more meaningful than a quick and simple death. You have lived for Itachi's love these last three years, but to what end? Love is a fickle thing, and it is a worthless thing to live for. But I can give you another reason to live. I can give you answers that will show you that there were many people who took advantage of Itachi. I can instill in you a great and powerful hatred for those who wronged him in the past—I can even give you the opportunity to avenge Itachi, to make those people pay…for it is as you think, Miho-san. The answers were never as simple as others made them out to be."

Tobi extended out his arm for Miho to take. Miho stared at it, but then looked back up at the Sharingan that glimmered in the depths of the darkness. A heavy sobriety lulled her mind and heart to stability, and the layer of numbness that she had so desperately needed to keep herself together surrounded her again. She could not tell if she was being compelled or not, but the truth of the matter was that she didn't care.

She took in a shuddering breath.

Tobi knew that he was close to convincing her.

"If," he said, his voice now a low whisper, "after you hear everything, you still want to kill Sasuke, I will let you try…and I will let you die. I will not let you suffer. You have nothing to lose, Miho-san."

She was not supposed to trust this man. If Itachi were with her, he would have forced her aside long before the conversation had progressed to this extent.

But that was the point.

Itachi was not with her.

So Miho reached up and grasped Tobi's proffered hand, her eyes flashing briefly before they reverted back into their blank, gray slate. Kakashi moved in, his arm glowing with crackling blue electricity, but the attack merely passed through Tobi as Miho and Tobi disappeared from the room, leaving no traces of themselves behind.

* * *

"You are more controlled than Sasuke-kun, it seems," said Tobi. "At least I don't have to tie you up to make you listen."

Miho looked around her. They were in a stone cavern of some kind that had been carved into a secret base, with various rooms cut out of the rock. She could sense Sasuke's chakra in the room adjacent to hers, and a pure, unadulterated rage washed over her. Tobi seemed to notice this, for he made a movement toward her, but then the rage disappeared as quickly as it came. Still further away to her right were three more chakra signatures: those of Sasuke's teammates, guarded by a chakra she realized to belong to Zetsu. Other than those, no one else was around within a ten-kilometer radius.

Tobi had chosen his hideout well.

"Sit," said Tobi, offering her a crudely shaped chair.

Miho shook her head.

"I insist," he said. "I don't want you collapsing when you hear what I'm about to tell you."

"Do you think I'm that weak?"

"Not in particular," he conceded. "But even Sasuke-kun could not control himself."

"You said so yourself," she retorted, "that I control myself better than Sasuke. I'll remain standing."

"…Still don't trust me, Miho-san?"

"Forgive me." Itachi's favorite phrase rolled mockingly off her tongue. "I trust no one in Akatsuki. Besides…you were the one who killed both my father and me that night. I haven't forgotten."

"As you should not," agreed Tobi. "Fine, then. I suppose I should apologize for that night—it was nothing personal."

"I'm certain." Her characteristic acidity was starting to surface.

"Itachi asked me to leave you to himself," continued Tobi, as if he hadn't heard her. "Naturally, though, after killing his parents, I figured he wouldn't have the strength to kill you as well, so I took things into my own hands." He chuckled. "Ah, I've made you angry. These are certainly not pleasant memories for you. Very well, I will explain why Itachi wanted Sasuke to kill him. In order to do so, though, I will have to start from the beginning, from the founding of Konoha—"

"Save me the history lesson," cut in Miho. "I only need to know what is relevant."

Tobi seemed irritated. "Everything is relevant, even from the beginning of Konoha."

"I think you're misunderstanding me," she said icily. "I have not sat idly by for the last three years, hoping for Itachi to bestow some knowledge onto me. I know that there was a serious tension between Konoha's government and the Uchiha clan, building up from the founding of Konohagakure when the First Hokage and Uchiha Madara converged together to form the first ninja village. I know the Uchiha clan was prideful and I know it bothered the government, and after the Kyuubi attack, the government used the attack as an excuse to quarter Konoha's own police force to a corner of the village. But this doesn't tell me anything about Itachi himself. What I really need to know is what catalyzed everything, the impetus that forced Itachi to slaughter his clan and abandon the village he loved so much. If you're telling me the truth, you have that answer—the only answer I've ever wanted out of Itachi."

"Evidence of this tension was not made publicly available, and people who remember this have long been dead," he said after a pregnant pause. "Your skills at reconnaissance are impressive, Miho-san. Yet, I'm rather disappointed that you could not find out your answer even with all this information. You knew Itachi better than anyone. Surely you have a good idea of why the massacre had to happen?"

"Political tensions exist in every government," said Miho coldly. "If an entire clan was exterminated merely for political tension, then our village wouldn't exist at all. Additionally, it wouldn't make any sense that Itachi would be the one to massacre his clan—they would've gotten someone else and had Itachi killed too. Finally…the extermination of one clan over historic squabbles just doesn't seem like something that Sandaime Hokage would let happen on his watch."

Tobi barked out a laugh.

"Miho-san, you had me so convinced until that last sentence! I thought you'd abandoned Konoha a long time ago, only to find out that you hold the same kind of blind belief in that village that its foolish inhabitants have. It seems you still do not understand. In that case, allow me to spell it out for you."

And so Miho stood there, listening, as Tobi told her about the coup d'état that the Uchiha had planned, that pacific Itachi had been Konoha's double agent, and that at the end, the Sandaime Hokage, along with his two most trusted advisors on the council as well as Shimura Danzou, had ordered Itachi to kill his clan to stop the rebellion from happening. Of course Itachi had obeyed and had told no one because he was an arrogant, self-sacrificial, perfect shinobi who could only do what he was told…

When Tobi finished by telling her that Itachi had joined Akatsuki with the purpose of reporting Akatsuki's dealings to Konoha—staying a loyal dog to the very end—he let the silence hover. Miho did not have any words. She knew Tobi was studying her closely for a reaction, and so she controlled herself—face impassive, chakra stable. Tobi seemed satisfied with her utter lack of reaction.

"I'm guessing my father knew about this insurrection," she said at last.

"Naturally. He was the only outsider who believed in the Uchiha cause, so he was obviously ordered to die. You were at the time an ANBU-level kunoichi as well—even though you truly knew nothing, they did not even think of sparing you."

Miho was silent for several minutes, finding that perhaps she should have taken Tobi's offer to sit. She had always thought that it was she who had abandoned Konoha on her own, that no matter how much she'd hated Konoha for letting her suffer so much at Orochimaru's hands, some of her misfortune was her own fault. Konoha had always been a bright memory to her, one of innocence and justice that she could not bring herself to contaminate by living there.

Now, though, an unconscious but deep-rooted seed of resentment and hatred found way into the back of her mind. As she thought of Kakashi and Tsunade, who had shown her such kindness, she found her memories colored with red haze that she often saw when she thought of Orochimaru—a visceral, searing hatred that she tried blinking out of her eyes. She could not let herself be manipulated by the man who casually confessed that he had murdered her father, but no matter how hard she tried, Miho's willpower was an insignificant, pathetic force that was only scrambling to cling to the closest explanation that made sense. The worst thing was that Tobi's explanation _did_ make sense—it was something that had crossed her mind, even, but she had dismissed it as impossible.

"Chair?" offered Tobi, placing his gift right beside her.

Miho sank into it, all energy in her legs disappearing.

"I suppose you were right to trust the Sandaime," continued Tobi. "He refused to believe that a massacre was the answer—he tried as long as he could to reconcile with the Uchiha. But Danzou and the other councilors pressured both him and Itachi to act before it was too late, and soon enough, the day came when we slaughtered the clan together."

"Why did you help him?" said Miho.

"I have long held a grudge against the clan that betrayed me for peace in Konoha…I am Uchiha Madara."

Miho almost laughed aloud, so tired she was of the information and stories and games that she was still playing when she wanted nothing more than to crawl onto the cold, stone ground and die.

"Don't fuck with me."

"The ability to change one's own chakra signature is an ability that was passed on to the best of the Saruji clan. With the exception of yourself, this skill died out over seventy years ago—if I weren't Uchiha Madara, do you think I could possibly possess both the skill of your ancestors as well as the Sharingan?"

"You can't change the color of your chakra pathways," she snapped. "Your body isn't a day over thirty-five—there's no way you're someone who was supposed to die over a century ago!"

"You worked with Orochimaru long enough," he returned calmly. "You know how such matters are perfectly feasible. I was right about to wage war against the village when Itachi found me and convinced me to help him slaughter the clan instead. I accepted his conditions and took out half of the clan and you by half-accident. Truthfully, it would not have made a difference, for Itachi would have had no trouble killing you as well."

Miho looked coldly up at him.

"Face it, Miho-san," he said. "The details should be clear to you now. Itachi remained loyal to the village he loved so much, killing his entire clan for it, but he made one, little mistake—he could not kill his little brother. Everything that Itachi has ever done was for Sasuke. Not only did he let him live, but Itachi even retained the Uchiha clan's pristine reputation while giving all the glory to his little brother by letting Sasuke kill him. Even at the moment of his death, Itachi bestowed every Sharingan technique that he had ever learned onto Sasuke, all to protect him. Of course, in contrast, that begs the question…what did he do for you?"

Miho did not want to hear what else the conversation had to offer. "Stop."

"It's becoming all very clear to you now, isn't it?" Madara said, ignoring her. "You know I'm telling the truth—everything I've said matches up with the Itachi you lived with for the last three years. He knew he was going to die, he just needed to prolong his life for a little bit longer until Sasuke was strong enough—"

"Stop talking."

"He stopped taking your medications because they were proving to be too effective, and he needed that disease to give him a reason to die. You yourself weren't enough for him to want to live, Miho-san, don't you understand? Only if you had cured _Itachi himself would you have actually saved him—_"

"Shut up."

"So selfish, isn't he? At the end, he had everything planned for Sasuke to live on, but for you, he gave nothing, and even told Kisame to kill you once he himself had fulfilled his duty—"

"_Shut up_!" she nearly shrieked, standing up and shoving Madara so quickly that he was actually solid when she did so. "I knew all that! You don't have to tell me—I knew he didn't want to live and I tried, I tried _so fucking hard_ but I couldn't because at the end of the day all he did was lie to me and trick me and stick me in illusions because that was _all he could fucking give me because I wasn't important enough—_"

The last phrase choked out of her as she doubled over, her throat constricting with silent, furious screams at everything, everyone, at Danzou and the Sandaime and those two councilors, at Sasuke who had not even earned the love that Miho had wanted so badly but had still gotten it, and most of all at Itachi, who had given Sasuke absolutely everything he could and had left her with just the orders to die.

Madara ease her back into the chair, and as Miho sat, she felt as if all energy had been sapped from her and the exhaustion that seized her every limb and organ could not compare to anything else she had felt before. She knew what pain was, and she was not in pain. It was worse, like drowning on land, with each breath she desperately needed being mercilessly stolen from her one by one.

"I tried," she said softly. She didn't know who she was trying to convince—Madara, Fate, or Itachi. "I tried to fight for it."

"…I know," said Madara. "You tried to defend Itachi more than any other shinobi tried to defend his village. But there are always things beyond your control…and no matter what you did, you could only lose."

Miho breathed in and swallowed the stale air. Her throat still felt like Tobi had wound his fingers around her neck and was choking it brutally. She could not speak.

"Even in death, Itachi did not want anyone to know about these things," he said. "He did everything he could to make sure that Sasuke did not know…and could not bring himself to tell you, the person who trusted him most in this world. But now, you do know."

"And?" she said weakly. "What good does knowing do me?"

"…I want you to live, Miho-san. Sasuke is a volatile child who can only think with his rage. Depending on what he chooses to do…I would like you to watch over him."

She scoffed. "I want to kill him, not watch over him."

"I told you all this because you can_not_ kill him," said Madara smoothly. "That is Itachi's dying will, and no matter how much you convince yourself otherwise…you cannot ignore that."

Miho looked up at Madara, her gaze as empty as she now felt. Logically, she should have asked what he wanted with Sasuke. What he was planning with Akatsuki. Why such a bitter old man was alive at all.

But Miho did not care.

Perhaps Madara knew all this, which was why he wanted to keep her alive.

"Well, Miho-san? Will you live on?"

In the next room, Sasuke's chakra stirred. Itachi wanted him to live, and he wanted Miho to die. And she was supposed to honor Itachi's dying will.

How funny.

"…Everyone dies," she answered quietly. Behind his orange mask, Madara's Sharingan gleamed. "It's only the matter of when."

* * *

"Here."

Kisame dropped a tray of food and an enormous jar of sake in front of her. Miho did not bat an eyelash.

"Eat," he ordered.

It was surprising that after so many years of dealing with Kisame's casual sadism, she actually preferred his company to anyone else's. Contrary what Itachi often said, Kisame was smart, loyal, but more than anything, absolutely neutral. Madara had wisely left her before he'd outstayed his welcome, and Miho highly doubted she could contain herself around Sasuke or any ninja from Konoha at the moment.

"Miho-san," said Kisame, an edge lining his voice when she made no movement to touch the plate of sashimi.

"You know I don't like raw seafood," she said tonelessly.

"Too bad," he said, sitting down in the seat across from her. "I got you the most expensive one—eat it."

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Miho-san."

"I'll eat it later," she said tiredly. "I have enough to digest, Kisame-san. Don't add onto it."

For once, he yielded to her. "Fine."

An awkward pause ensued. No matter how callous Kisame was, she knew that he harbored some degree of affection for Itachi. Of course, he showed hardly any signs of being affected.

"I'm surprised," he said, breaking the silence.

She glanced at him, indicating for him to continue.

"I thought you'd be crying your eyes out, but even Madara said you didn't shed a single tear."

"…Sorry to disappoint."

"Maybe you didn't like him as much as I thought you did," said Kisame semi-jokingly, though he sobered up immediately at the expression Miho gave him.

"…Are you sad?" she asked.

Kisame shrugged. "Disappointed, I suppose. He was a good partner, better than anyone else I could have hoped for. Though I guess after eight years of working together…you can't help but get a bit attached." He sighed and reached over for the sake jar. "Want some?"

Truthfully, she wanted nothing better than to get completely drunk and then throw herself out the closest window she could find. But Miho had already made her decision, and she needed to be as levelheaded as she could manage before meeting Sasuke or dealing with Madara again. She chose to live—for now—and unfortunately, that choice required her to be decently intelligent.

So she shook her head at Kisame's offer, somewhat jealous as he shrugged and poured himself a liberal serving. He drank it in one gulp and began to pour himself more.

"Eat, Miho-san."

She picked up her chopsticks and picked up the nearest piece, only to set it back down. Kisame didn't badger her; when she looked up again, he had already finished his second cup.

"Perhaps you're sadder than I thought," she said dryly. Kisame had always been a drinker, but he always emphasized that one had to savor the taste of excellent sake.

"Maybe," he surprisingly admitted. "I heard everything from Tobi—well, Madara-san I suppose. Looks like I didn't know Itachi-san as well as I thought."

Miho said nothing. _No one knew Itachi as well as they thought_, she thought bitterly.

"Not much I can do about it though," shrugged Kisame. "I can't bring Itachi-san back from the dead, don't care enough to go and kill the Konoha councilors, and I still have to guard you even though I don't know what the hell Madara wants with Itachi's killer and his widow in one room."

"What does Madara want with Sasuke?" she forced herself to ask.

"Beats me," said Kisame, giving up on the glass and instead bringing the entire sake jar to his lips. "I don't do the planning. Just take my orders and saw people up. That's why I trusted what Itachi-san wanted most of the time—he seemed to have his head screwed on right. Clearly, I was mistaken. Shouldn't have let him fight Sasuke-kun."

Miho's brows furrowed together.

"_Let_ him?" she said. "What do you mean?"

"Itachi-san asked me to keep Sasuke-kun's lackeys out of his battle," said Kisame. "He said he didn't need his full potential to defeat his brother. I thought he was right, so I agreed."

"…When did he tell you this?" said Miho, her voice now deadly.

"Yesterday morning."

There was a screeching sound followed by the loud crash of Miho's chair falling backward. Kisame looked at her in alarm. Her body had moved on its own; she stood up, body rigid and eyes blazing at this new revelation.

Kisame's eyes narrowed.

"And you didn't think it was a good idea tell me?" she said, her voice a sad attempt at even.

"Sit down," he said coolly. "You don't want to start a fight with me right now."

"Do you have _any_ idea what I want?!"

"If you want to keep your head, you'll shut up and sit down."

"You only want me to shut up because you know I'm right," she snarled, one chopstick gripped tightly in her right hand.

"Eat your sashimi."

"_Eat your own fucking sashimi, you fucking idiot!_" She grabbed the entire tray and flung it in Kisame's direction. Kisame blocked the tray, causing it to fly across the room, sending its contents splattering on the wall to his right. He grabbed the edge of the stone table they had been sitting, picked it up effortlessly, and threw it at Miho—she barely had room to dodge it, only to narrowly evade Samehada as Kisame swiped it right where her neck was supposed to be. She embedded the wooden chopstick in her hand with chakra and hurled it at his head, but Samaheada shredded it to pieces. Kisame's massive chakra was pulsing wildly—Kisame, who was always calm and composed, seemed to have been severely ticked by her poor decision-making skills, but at this point, she was no less angry and regretted nothing.

She skidded to the opposite side of the room, where Kisame thankfully did not pursue her.

"That was expensive food," he said, his expression and voice betraying nothing that she could sense from his chakra.

"Why didn't you tell me the instant Itachi said he was going to fight Sasuke?" she demanded.

Kisame's eyes narrowed. "You should appreciate what people give you."

"Shut up about your food," she snapped. "You know you don't give a damn about your food and you're pissed because _you know I'm right_—you should've known better than that! You knew how bad his body was! Why the fuck did you let him go anyway?"

"I had Itachi-san's reassurance that he was going to be fine," said Kisame coldly. "I trusted his judgment more than yours."

"You should have told me! If you had told me, I could have stopped him!"

Kisame chuckled, but there was absolutely nothing about the situation or his chakra that indicated that he found anything funny.

"Do you hear yourself, Miho-san? You are completely delusional."

"_I'm_ delusional?" she repeated incredulously. "No, you psychopath, _you killed Itachi—"_

"Shut up, you madwoman," interrupted Kisame harshly, drowning her shriek out with his level coolness. "I didn't kill Itachi-san. Itachi-san killed himself—you just don't want to admit it to yourself."

"If I cured him—"

"Don't you get it yet? _It doesn't matter_. He told me not to tell you that he was going to fight Sasuke because he didn't _want_ to be cured. It doesn't matter if you _could_ have, all that matters was that you _didn't_. Don't be stupid and try to push the blame onto me, Miho-san, when the only reason you're angry is because you weren't enough for Itachi to stay alive."

Miho let out a near scream of frustration.

"You should have told me," she heard herself keep saying, "you should have told me and I could've saved him. _I _could've saved him. Itachi wouldn't have died."

Kisame walked over to her and Miho found herself unconsciously backing up into the wall. He stopped in front of her, his profile towering over hers, and when he looked at her, his expression was neither accusatory nor kind.

"Even as the world's shittiest doctor, you should know," he said quietly, "that the one thing you can never cure is the will to die. You have the capacity to save any person on the face of this planet, but you couldn't save Itachi because he didn't need saving. He wanted to die. It's not my fault, and it's not your fault. It was Itachi's choice, and you need to accept it."

In a rare display of emotion, he patted her on the head. The weight of his hand felt like he had taken the stone table that was tossed indecorously on its side and had set it on her like a crown. It was not painful, nor was it comforting. It was merely as it was—heavy and just…there.

"I'll get you another tray," he said.

Only when the door closed behind him did Miho realize that for the first time since she had woken up and heard the news she had always dreaded, she had tears streaming down her face. In the corners of her mind laid the blanket of numbness and the increasingly short fuse that she'd alternated between to maintain her sanity.

She took in a shallow breath and brushed aside the tears.

It had been Itachi's choice. She had to accept.

Bullshit.

* * *

Madara decided that Miho was mentally competent enough to see Sasuke after several hours of being in Kisame's even-tempered company. He brought her up to the top of the base, where Sasuke and his team had already gathered. The base was stationed on a cliff that overlooked the sea. The sky was clear and the air clean. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks was the only thing she could hear as Sasuke turned to look at her, his eyes rimmed with red and the remnants of tears streaking his cheeks.

The tranquility of the entire scenario was unbearable.

So she did what she wanted to do the most—she hit him. Hard. Straight across the cheek where she could feel the wetness of his tears and thought vindictively that what he was feeling was _nothing_, absolutely nothing compared to how she felt.

Behind her, Sasuke's female teammate screeched and Kisame chortled. Sasuke's teammates must have made a move toward her, for Sasuke held up a hand to signal them to stop. He himself said nothing, instead waiting for Miho to make another move.

"You know," she said, her voice so quiet that it was nearly inaudible compared to the rolling waves, "that I hate no one alive as much as I hate you right now."

Sasuke remained impassive and just nodded his head.

"That includes Danzou and the councilors…and everyone else in Konoha," she said. "You say you want to destroy Konoha. By your very logic, I want to destroy you."

"…I understand," said Sasuke. "But you know I can't let you do that. I have things I need to complete. I need to kill Danzou and those councils. I need to annihilate Konoha. _We_ need to annihilate Konoha. To avenge Itachi."

"And you think siding with the very organization that Itachi spied on is the right way to do it?"

Sasuke closed his eyes, but when he reopened them, they were the bright, brilliant red of the Sharingan. The pattern, though, was of multiple ellipses crisscrossed like planets orbiting around the sun. Something lodged in Miho's throat—Sasuke's chakra signature had changed to one that was similar to Itachi's.

"This is the power Itachi left me," he said. "This is the power Itachi worked so hard to gain and he left it to _me_ to protect what I love. I will do everything I need to do to avenge my brother."

"Whom you love," said Miho.

Her irony was lost on Sasuke. He nodded.

"Yes. We can do it together, Miho. This is our _right_."

Miho turned away from Sasuke's glowing eyes and looked down at the billowing water that tossed this way and that. If she pushed Sasuke down from here, would he die? Just one simple push, and he would drown. She'd heard that drowning was a terrible way to die.

She looked back at him. Sasuke's new Sharingan, crimson and healthy and nearly blinding, glowed vibrantly. Something healthy could degenerate with ease if she handled it.

She reached up and touched Sasuke's reddening cheek that she had slapped. Sasuke had said it himself. It was their right to destroy those who took everything they held dear away from them.

But Sasuke did not seem to understand that it was he who had taken Itachi away from her.

Her voice reached a low whisper, a promise made but nearly lost amidst the sound of a hawk screeching somewhere above them.

"Yes," she said, her voice as smooth as ice. "We can do it. We can kill Danzou. I will destroy all those who took Itachi away from me."

Her fingers curled and she set her hand on Sasuke's shoulder, close to his neck. This would be the easiest way to kill someone—she only had to send a stream of hot chakra to her fingertips and she could sever Sasuke's spinal cord in a millisecond.

Her fingers flexed. Sasuke did not notice.

Miho resisted and let her hand drop to her side. They looked at each other, and Sasuke's lips curled into a smirk as he mistook her resolution for mutual understanding. He did not know—once they had killed the others, she would kill Sasuke.

That was her right.


	27. Of Children

**Chapter 27: Of Children**

It was raining in Konoha. It had rained most days for the last month, ever since the Uchiha brothers had battled and Itachi had fallen. Since his—and it truly was his own—failure to retrieve either Sasuke or Miho, Kakashi had barred himself from missions and instead remained in his home most of the time, save for his trips to the Hokage's Tower. Sakura, Naruto, and Yamato dropped by occasionally, sometimes to chat about the frustrating politics of the hospital, the ramen house and its recent decline in quality of noodles, and the swiftly dissolving relationship between ANBU and Root, respectively. Though everything about Konoha seemed to be deteriorating lately, these were the conversations Kakashi preferred. At least he could comment on the history of healers being snubbed to appease Sakura, remind Naruto that Ichiraku had been his only childhood friend and he could therefore never abandon it, and admit to Yamato that the secret mobilization of Root disturbed him. He had alerted Tsunade as best as he could, but Sai could only tell him so much, and Danzou was incredibly careful and tight-lipped about what he did with his own faction.

It was when these three dropped by to talk about Sasuke that Kakashi had less to contribute. Naruto had grown as close to depressed as Kakashi could have imagined; the failure to retrieve Sasuke, which of course Naruto always blamed on himself, coupled with news of Jiraiya's death had been great blows to Naruto's self-confidence and optimism. While Sakura had always been more levelheaded than Naruto, she was equally hard to deal with when it came to Sasuke. The question they asked—_why hasn't Sasuke returned on his own?_—puzzled Kakashi more than he let on. Unlike his students, Kakashi had never believed that Sasuke would waltz back to Konoha right after killing Itachi; he had always been more cynical than that. All the same, he had expected to hear some news about Sasuke: that he was rebuilding the Uchiha clan elsewhere, that he was still hunting down the rest of Akatsuki—_something_. The most alarming fact was that there had been no sign of Sasuke anywhere, as if he had simply vanished into thin air.

Now in the isolation of his apartment, a two-story, modestly furnished but well-booby-trapped-to-ward-off-Gai flat, Kakashi leaned his chin into his hands and pursed his lips. He had taken a leaf out of Miho's book of paranoia and had installed chakra-sensing devices at all points of possible entrance except for the front door. It had taken him several days to get used to it, as it seemed that the alarms were constantly ringing as long as anything with chakra passed by. Miho had been able to able to tailor hers to trigger to only malicious chakra and had also been able to turn the sensors on and off. Learning this technique had been a hassle, but it provided enough security for Kakashi to feel comfortable leaving his mask off once in a while. Sipping tea through the cloth made it soggy, unsanitary, and unsavory to smell. It was a good trade.

Now, he sat unmasked and thoughtful as his gloved hands tapped the sides of a gradually cooler ceramic teacup. The bright orange cover of _Icha Icha Paradise!_, now on its fifteenth read, looked worn and for once as silly as all his students made it out to be. Something was seriously wrong if Kakashi was not in the mood for his favorite erotic novel, but he had not been in such a mood for weeks. It was troubling to think that Jiraiya had been killed by Akatsuki's leader, and Kakashi could not help but feel as if the peace Konoha was experiencing now was merely the quiet before the storm. He had expressed his concerns to the Hokage, who agreed with him, but also said that she could not do much to prepare against premonition.

Listlessly, Kakashi brought the cup to his lips. His mind turned elsewhere, now to an even less tasteful topic: Miho. When Miho had suddenly disappeared from Konoha, there had been no signs of a struggle. Tsunade had not been pleased, but days later, a crow had appeared on his windowsill. Pakkun had growled at it, which meant that the crow was a Summon. The bird then dropped a sealed scroll in Kakashi's hands and flew out without another word.

The contents of the scroll were in Miho's hand—a timeline with sparse events tracing back to the beginning of Konoha, and then detailed bullet points of events leading up to the Uchiha massacre. The rivalry between Uchiha and Senju and then Itachi's odd behavior, all wrapped up in one tiny scroll. Kakashi had thought about it and then had handed it to Tsunade privately. The Hokage had given no inclination of what she thought and merely ordered for Miho to be returned to Konoha, preferably alive for questioning.

Kakashi was an obvious Hokage candidate not only because of his prowess as a shinobi—Gai was excellent as well—but also because of his brain, which Gai could not use as efficiently. Kakashi thought about all possibilities, which was why he dwelled on the prospect of Uchiha Itachi being "good." It would explain Miho's insistence to study the Uchiha massacre and certainly fell in line with what Kakashi had always thought of Itachi before the whole…killing the family event. The problem was that all evidence pointed in the opposite direction. Kakashi remembered his own Tsukiyomi torture session ruefully.

He drained the rest of the tea and stared down at the dregs. Miho had disappeared too, right in front of him with the man they called Tobi. Kakashi frowned. Another Sharingan user. Who else had Uchiha Itachi left alive? All bodies had been accounted for—Kakashi had been the one to double-check the list, taking note of each corpse and marking off the corresponding name. He had gone on missions with many of the dead; some of them had even taught him briefly at the Academy.

A quiet but urgent beep suddenly rang out in the apartment. Intruders would disregard it as the noise of an alarm, but Kakashi was very attuned to the sound; he dragged his mask over his nose and appeared immediately at the triggered sensor, which was hidden in a windowpane on the second floor. It was an odd choice for entrance, but as he saw his visitor, he realized why.

A black crow was perched on the windowsill, its glossy feathers dampened by the rain. Upon close inspection, he could tell that it was a different one from before—it was smaller and the plumage less black than its predecessor. Kakashi opened the window, allowing it entry.

"Are you carrying news from Miho?" Kakashi asked.

"No," the bird said in a soft, female voice. "She prefers my brother, that one."

"Then who is your Summoner?"

"Uchiha Itachi," was the stoic reply.

It was not one that Kakashi had anticipated. Though he knew Miho and Itachi had the same Summon, Kakashi had dismissed the thought as a convenient and unnecessary fluke on Fate's part. Was it possible that Uchiha Itachi was alive? Kakashi didn't know if that would make his life easier or not. Besides, what business would Itachi have with Kakashi, of all people?

Nonetheless, he remained impassive.

"Why are you here?"

"One of the last few things Itachi-kun told me to do before he died was to deliver a few messages," she answered.

"…Why would he leave one for me?"

The crow did not deign to answer his question. Perhaps she did not know it. "Before you hear it, you must swear on your honor as a shinobi of Konoha that you will tell no one you heard from me—including the Hokage."

Kakashi swore without much thought. Vows to birds representing dead men were easily broken.

"If Chiaki Miho is still alive, please take care of her," said the crow.

Kakashi waited for more, but there was none.

"That's it?" he said, somewhat incredulous when he realized that the crow was not continuing. "That's all he had to say?"

"So it seems. I have completed my task. Farewell."

"Wait. Do you know where Miho is right now?"

"I do."

Again, Kakashi waited for more, but was disappointed once again.

"Can you tell me where she is?" he tried politely.

"I cannot. We do not interfere with the lives of those who Summon us. We carry out our tasks and no more."

Somewhat annoyed, Kakashi settled with one more question. "She is alive, at least?"

"That is debatable," was the crow's cryptic answer.

Then, without another word, she spread her wings and glided off the windowsill and out of sight.

* * *

The rainwater seeped through the ceiling of the cave and fell to the ground in singular pellets. The air was cool and comfortable, though the furniture was not.

_Plop_, went the raindrop.

Miho leaned against the hard and rugged wall, shifting her weight on her sad excuse of a bench. The cave was quiet, but she was not alone.

_Plop_, went the raindrop. It was followed by the grating sound of stone against steel. Miho was sharpening one of her swords. She kept one with her at all times now. Summoning them took too much time and effort.

_Plop,_ went the raindrop. _Shriek_, went the grinding stone.

Several feet away from her, Kisame stirred and glared at her.

"Could you keep it down?" he growled.

"I'm not being loud, Kisame-san," she answered. "Stop sleeping. It's all you do."

"Because there's nothing else to do," he groaned, standing up and swinging Samehada over his shoulder. "Why didn't you go with Sasuke? It's better than staying here in this godforsaken place."

Nearly a month after Itachi's death, Sasuke declared himself fully recovered and was enraged enough to begin his assault on Konoha. Madara had politely told him to calm himself and to use his brain. Sasuke's team wouldn't even be able to scratch Konoha. Instead, Madara had sent Sasuke on a quest, and so Sasuke and his team had gone to retrieve the Gyuuki.

"With Karin around, I'm a bit redundant," Miho replied. "It would be a waste of energy to have two sensors on the same team."

The similarity between Karin's and her abilities was striking. Orochimaru truly had tried to emulate as much of Miho's ability as he could have. Much to Miho's chagrin, Karin was talented and on par, perhaps even better, than Miho at distance sensing. Her range was large and her sensing precise, though unlike Miho, she could not discern what Miho called the color of chakra, which told her much more about a person: emotions, age, and in battle, the next anticipated attack. All the same, in a brief evaluation of Karin's chakra system and an even briefer discussion with her about her overall capabilities, Miho found no purpose in joining Sasuke on his mission when Karin could even serve as a healer. Sasuke had pointed out that it never hurt to have an additional healer especially if one was injured, which had left Karin slightly miffed, but Miho had declined. Karin was capable, and Miho did not want to exhaust her efforts on someone she would have to kill anyway.

_Plop_, went the raindrop. _Shriek_, went the stone.

"But the Gyuuki would be fun to fight," insisted Kisame. "Even your little Sasuke-kun will have trouble—"

"He's not _my_ little Sasuke," said Miho. "I want to throw him as far as I can whenever I see him."

"Which would not be far at all, with your scrawny arms."

"Haven't you met Haruno Sakura? I could throw Sasuke farther with one finger than most men could with both hands."

"But between you and me," he said lazily, "who do you think could throw him the farthest?"

Miho conceded defeat by giving no answer. Kisame smirked and stroked the hilt of Samehada lovingly. She swore she heard the blade purr in contentment. Kisame had told her earlier that he trusted her not to run—he was too lazy to swing Samehada at her every time he needed to make a point, and Samehada didn't like her chakra anyway. She wished she had known that earlier—it would have made her significantly less terrified of the stupid sword for the last four years.

_Plop, plop,_ went two raindrops. The stone was silent. Miho set aside the stone and brushed a finger against the edge of her blade; with ease, it cut and drew blood. Satisfied, she brought the finger up to her lips, sucked the blood out, and brushed her thumb against the wound. It healed instantly.

"You should sleep," said Kisame. "I'll take the next watch."

"I'm not tired," she said. "Where did Madara go?"

"Dunno."

The ancient Uchiha—or so he claimed himself to be—dropped by the cave occasionally to ensure that there was nothing wrong with the group. Truthfully, he had every reason to worry: Juugo was prone to mad fits, Suigestu lusted after Samehada every chance he had, and Miho knew Madara didn't trust her completely. The habit she had picked up over the last month of constantly sharpening her blades had not gone unnoticed. Still, he trusted her enough to keep the children in line. Juugo, when not insane, was mild-mannered and did not need much threatening. For some bizarre reason, Suigetsu seemed somewhat uncomfortable around Miho; perhaps it was classical conditioning, and seeing Miho reminded him of the electrocution sessions he'd suffered through. Miho decided not to mention that she had been healing him, not sending a ten thousand ampere current through him. Whenever Karin talked too much, Miho would remark that Sasuke really had no need for two medics and Miho would not mind disposing of one. She did not need to clarify that she was not inclined to dispose of herself. Karin knew the truth behind her threat; a Konoha shinobi was infinitely the better fighter than one from Kusagakure.

_Plop, plop, plop_. The storm was growing worse. She wondered how Sasuke and his team were faring.

It was Sasuke who bothered Miho the most, and perhaps it was for Sasuke that Madara dropped by at all. She and Sasuke hardly ever spoke. Whenever he came too close, Miho found it difficult to control her chakra from spiking out of anger. Sasuke noticed and always kept his distance. Most of the time, he kept to himself, staring restlessly into the air. He would grimace, as if tasting something particularly bitter, and more than once Miho overheard him muttering, "Danzou. Kill them all."

_Excellent_, she thought wryly. They were just a concoction of psychotic freaks thrown in a cauldron, and Madara was the witch waiting for the explosion.

The series of _plops_ became a constant sound as the cave rumbled with the echoing thunder. The storm would surely hinder Sasuke's trip back, and if he were injured, it would only make his wounds worse. She could not quite decide if she was hoping for him to die now or later.

_Later_, she found herself thinking. Sasuke would be useful, easily the strongest shinobi of his team and now with the Mangekyou, a formidable force against even the Hokage. Though sometimes, when she woke up blearily, for a split second she thought that Sasuke was Itachi, especially when they looked so alike. The ensuing hatred gave her difficulty reining in her strong desire to slit his throat in his sleep. Sasuke was nothing like his brother, despite their appearances. Itachi was patient and even-tempered; Sasuke was a spoiled child who thought with his emotions more than his brain. He was a terrible shinobi.

Miho tapped her sword against the side of the bench. It elicited a crisp clink, and Miho deemed it sharp enough. She sheathed it and stood up.

"They're back," she said.

"Took them long enough," sighed Kisame, standing up as well. "How far?"

She took several minutes to reply.

"About ten minutes, at the pace they're going," she said, knowing distances meant nothing to Kisame. "Sasuke is severely injured, Karin's chakra is nearly depleted, Suigetsu and Juugo seem to be injured as well. But they're all alive."

"And the Gyuuki?"

"With them. Chakra seems a bit small, though."

"Probably exhausted him," shrugged Kisame. "Surprised they're alive."

"So am I," she said. "I was hoping one of them would be dead."

Kisame didn't even question why.

"Which one?"

_Sasuke_, was her initial thought. But that would be premature. Karin? No, she was the most dedicated to Sasuke but also the easiest to get rid of. Suigetsu, perhaps? But Miho didn't know if he would die for Sasuke…then Juugo? He was meek most of the time…but he looked up to Sasuke like a god and was monstrously strong when necessary.

"Juugo," she decided.

"Good choice," he replied.

Miho was pretty sure Kisame knew exactly what she thought of doing to Sasuke and also knew that he did not disapprove.

The four of them finally appeared at the entrance. Suigetsu tossed the tied-up Gyuuki onto the ground in front of them without a word and the team sank to the ground, clearly exhausted.

"They need to be healed," said Kisame pointedly.

Miho looked at Karin, but the redheaded girl only glared at her.

"Any time, preferably soon, would you?" she snapped. "Sasuke's fading fast."

Miho was mildly surprised that Karin even had the energy to snap. She was in terrible shape, and her back even looked burnt black.

"Kisame-san, are you taking the Gyuuki then?" Miho said.

"Yeah. Might need to help these kids out," said Kisame, nudging a gradually unconscious Suigetsu with his boot. "They don't look too good."

Unfortunately, Juugo looked like he was in the best shape of the team, though he looked somewhat younger than Miho remembered him to be. She didn't ask any questions, though. She was used enough to Orochimaru's experiments demonstrating much-too-convenient powers in dire situations.

Kisame slung the Gyuuki over Samehada and the sword began to munch away happily.

"Be careful, Miho-san," said Kisame, the way he always did before he left the cave for business.

"Safe travels," was her customary reply.

Miho knelt down next to Sasuke first and brought a hand to his forehead. Only when he was tired and injured did Sasuke look like the fifteen year-old boy he was supposed to be.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, eyeing the wound at his chest. It was incredibly bloody and it looked as if entire chunks of his flesh had been ripped out. Upon closer inspection, she could see the raw redness of tissues and muscles under the blood; someone must have given him emergency regenerative treatment. Miho frowned—it looked like Sasuke had just grown new muscle immediately. That was not possible with the medical caliber of his team.

"Of course it does, look at him!" snapped Karin.

Sasuke, however, shook his head. "Not…anymore."

"That's not a good sign," Miho murmured, easing Sasuke down so that his head was elevated by her lap. "Karin, you're…" Karin had barely enough chakra to remain conscious. "Useless" was the word on the tip of Miho's tongue, but she decided against it. "Come here."

Thankfully, Karin obeyed. Miho unsheathed her sword and pressed the tip against the palm of her own hand. Blood spilled over the cut immediately, and she lifted it up to Karin's face.

"Lick it," she ordered.

Karin looked revolted but complied, licking just enough to avoid any negative repercussions. Miho was glad she didn't need to explain anything to the girl; in Karin's current state, the intense amount of pure chakra in the Ishashin would replenish Karin's reserves enough to treat her own back and tend to Suigetsu. Miho was too hesitant to give her more—it was better to let the chakra replenish naturally, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She brought her hand to Sasuke's lips as gently as possible. When Sasuke looked like this, Miho found it hard to hate him. He was just a child…

Sasuke could barely keep down the blood, which made the process only more tedious. Exasperated, Miho Summoned her medical tools and, after measuring enough, injected the blood directly to his vein. Drinking the blood was actually more effective than injecting it directly because chakra flow was most rapid around the mouth and esophagus, which allowed for Elemental attacks like Katon and Suiton to erupt from the mouth. With Sasuke fading in and out of consciousness though, injection was the next best option. After several minutes, he was able to open his eyes, alert and finally aware of the pain.

"Miho," he snarled, "it hurts—"

"Bear with it," said Miho calmly as she washed away the blood on his chest with a washcloth.

His grip found her wrist, and Miho looked down to see that Sasuke had activated his Sharingan.

"Stop it," she said evenly. "You don't have enough chakra to afford threatening me. I don't have any anesthesia—you're going to have to bite down on a towel."

"I'll bite your hand—"

Miho twisted the hand in Sasuke's grip and pressed down on his wrist's pressure point; his hold immediately loosened. Suddenly filled with vindictiveness, she slammed his hand onto the ground with as much force as she could muster. An unearthly crack echoed in the cavern, followed by Sasuke's howl of pain.

"Sasuke!" shouted Juugo.

"Relax," said Miho, watching Sasuke's eyes slide out of focus and closed. "I'll fix it later."

"You crazy bitch!" screamed Karin.

"Shut up," muttered Miho, washing off the rest of the blood on Sasuke's chest and examining the damage. "Which one of you did Sasuke's healing?"

"I transferred some of the chakra and life force from my cursed seal," said Juugo, wincing as Karin healed some of his cuts. "It might not have been enough—"

"Any more and you would've become an infant," said Miho sharply. "Don't do that again."

"Sasuke would've died," insisted Juugo.

"And he's more important than you?" she said.

Juugo looked resolute. "Yes."

What exactly about Sasuke inspired loyalty was beyond Miho. All the same, she found herself regretting treating Sasuke so harshly—there had been kinder ways to deal with him…and she knew his pain was unbearable.

"Karin, is Suigetsu okay?"

"He's fine," she scowled. "He's just sleeping. He'll be fine—no one really knows how to heal him without electrocuting him first, and I don't think he likes that."

"I'll see to him later," Miho said. "If you two are feeling strong enough, I need you to boil water. I'm going to go ahead and fix Sasuke's wrist before I have to break it again. By the time I'm done, the water should be ready for you to sanitize these tools." She gestured to the various metal instruments next to her. "Your trip back has caused Sasuke's wounds to fester and get infected—I'll have to cut away some of the tissue and then repair it. Karin, you'll assist me. Juugo, make sure Suigetsu doesn't stop breathing all of a sudden."

The fact that Suigetsu's death would be advantageous to her did not pass through her mind.

Her orders were carried out promptly and Karin was dutiful as she aided Miho in the surgery. How ironic it was that after all those weeks of practicing for Itachi's surgery, she'd end up actually conducting the procedure on his little brother instead. Miho found the surgery taxing but oddly fulfilling as she cut away the tissue and re-grew it. It was easier than operating on the heart, and soon she had repaired the layers of muscle and tissue. She was growing tired by the time she got to the layers of skin and was about to take a break when Karin leaned in.

"I think I got it," she said, bringing her hands to Sasuke's chest.

"You don't have chakra right now, Karin," said Miho warningly.

Karin ignored her and continued, her regeneration technique an exact replica of Miho's. Miho allowed herself to smile slightly. A talented girl, indeed. Still, perspiration soon lined Karin's face and Miho brought a hand up to stop her.

"You're not using your chakra efficiently," she said. "You need to stop before you kill yourself."

"But it's Sasuke!" said Karin fiercely. "I don't care about my chakra!"

For the first time in weeks, Miho's heart ached. Why was it that all the girls who followed Sasuke blindly with their hearts all had such vibrant hair colors? And there was Juugo, who had sacrificed his own life force for Sasuke, and Suigetsu…his beloved sword had been sliced in half. Perhaps Miho should just let him die.

But the thought was a fruitless one. Sasuke's team was oddly loyal and that made Miho hurt more than it should have. She looked down at the boy lying in her lap and suddenly saw him bounding up to her with his bright blue lunchbox, his smile from ear-to-ear as he repeated for the umpteenth time that he was number one in his class.

"I'll finish up," she said quietly. "Rest, Karin."

Miho completed the remaining regeneration and after a cursory post-operation evaluation, she deemed Sasuke stable. She laid him against the wall and watched as he peacefully nodded in his sleep. Miho brushed her fingers against his face. When Sasuke was awake, he radiated a constant rage and hatred at everyone around him, and if Miho was being completely honest with herself, she knew that the person Sasuke blamed the most was himself. Most of the time, she was pitiless to his self-loathing because what Sasuke felt for himself was exactly what Miho felt for him. Why had Sasuke hated his brother so passionately without ever thinking about alternate possibilities? Did he not remember the kind, gentle brother who had so patiently taught him how to throw shuriken for the first time? Why was it that Miho had considered the Itachi she once knew when Sasuke had refused to even dwell on it? Sasuke's sudden love for Itachi seemed shallow and convenient, fuel to the fire that killing Itachi had never quenched.

Miho let out a breath, took the safety blanket from her pack of Summoned supplies, and tucked it under Sasuke's chin. She turned to Karin, who had forced herself to remain awake until she knew that Sasuke was safe.

"He'll be fine," she said. The girl nodded, a small smile at her lips, before she curled into a ball and passed out.

Miho looked at Juugo.

"Juugo, you should rest for a bit too. I'll see to Suigetsu and keep watch."

Juugo nodded and found his own corner of the cave to sleep in. Miho brought a hand up to Suigetsu's wrist to measure his pulse. He seemed to be stable, though his chakra levels were low enough to prevent any effective self-healing that his body may implement. Miho sighed and cut the tip of her finger, all the while thinking that she was shooting herself in the foot. _Look, Kisame_, she smiled wryly. _Who's the shitty doctor now?_ She tilted Suigetsu's head backward and let several drops fall into his mouth. It was the best she could do at this point.

She healed her cuts and got to her feet, surveying the members of Team Taka in front of her. _How foolish_, she thought. _They are but children._

Miho dragged herself to her bench carved out of a hole in the wall. She sat down and rested her head against the rugged stone, weary but alert.

_Itachi_, she found herself thinking_, we were but children too._ But she should have known better; the day Itachi had chosen to kill his family, he stopped being a child.

_Plop_, went one raindrop, and she knew the storm had passed.

* * *

She dreamed about Itachi occasionally when she slept. They were always absurd dreams: once, they were living in a Konoha seized in the throes of a potato famine. Another time, they were chased by wolves and eaten alive, even though roasting them with Amaterasu should've been the easiest thing in the world. One way or another, Itachi always died at the end of the dream—useless, stupid, and without warning. Even her subconscious seemed to always remind her that he was dead regardless of the circumstances.

Someone placed a heavy blanket over her shoulders, causing her to stir awake.

"I'm not cold, Ita—"

Miho held her tongue as she looked up at Sasuke, who gazed down at her expressionlessly. Damn it. Sasuke looked too much like his useless brother, minus the premature wrinkles, which made Sasuke the better-looking one. She would have to focus on the absence of wrinkles when she killed him.

"How long have I been sleeping?" she asked, her tone cool as she shrugged off the blanket.

"We traded shifts three hours ago," said Juugo, who was donning his Akatsuki cloak.

"Don't wear it, Juugo," said Sasuke sharply. "We're moving out, and not as part of Akatsuki."

"Turn them inside out," said Miho tiredly. "It's cold and raining—we need them. Why do you want to move out now? Kisame is—"

"I don't want the Gyuuki or whatever," interrupted Sasuke. "I don't need it, and I don't want to be indebted to Madara. I don't trust him."

"You shouldn't," said Miho. "He wiped out half your clan for fun. But you need the Gyuuki if you want to infiltrate Konoha."

"You know Konoha's security system better than most, and with you and Karin as sensors, infiltrating shouldn't be a problem. Besides, you can conceal your chakra—you could just waltz in and massacre the entire village."

Miho snorted. "Yeah, between the myriad of jounin who could best me and the Hokage who could beat me to a pulp, I wonder how that'd work."

"We can do it," said Sasuke, his dark eyes flashing. "With this power than Itachi has given me…we can do it easily."

"Itachi gave you that power to defend Konoha."

"If you want to defend Konoha that badly, what the hell are you doing here then?" snarled Sasuke.

Miho scoffed and stood up, slinging her sword across her back. "Itachi gave _you_ that power and responsibility. He didn't give me anything. I can kill whoever the hell I want to, no moral obligations attached."

"I will level Konoha to the ground," Sasuke said stubbornly, "with or without your help."

"Of course you'll have my help, little brother," mocked Miho, reaching for her own Akatsuki cloak and flipping it inside out. "On one condition."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The moment we land, we head straight for the Hokage's Tower. We kill the two councilors and Danzou. But until we do that, you don't touch a single hair on anyone else's head."

"But afterward—"

"We'll decide then."

"There will be people defending our targets—"

"Collateral damage," she said loftily. "But innocent bystanders, shinobi or not, you leave alone until we finish what we came to do."

"Why couldn't we just burn the entire village and kill everyone at one go?" grumbled Suigetsu. "With Amaterasu, you could just let that baby burn forever."

"And miss out on Danzou's expression as he dies?" said Miho lazily. "Not a chance."

This sadistic whim voiced aloud seemed to comfort Sasuke. He closed his eyes and reopened them with his Sharingan shining fiercely.

"Let's go," he said, his voice chilling and resolute, and the five of them disappeared from the cave.

* * *

Madara shot their plan to hell soon after their departure. They were only several miles away from Konoha when he appeared out of nowhere in front of them. Sasuke looked over at her, as if questioning why she hadn't sensed Madara coming, but Miho had no answer. Either Madara had also obtained the ability conceal his chakra completely, or he could solidify from thin air.

Madara came bearing news. Akatsuki's Leader had decimated Konohagakure on his orders to capture the Kyuubi.

"That village was mine," snarled Sasuke.

"Yes, well, not anymore," answered the elder. "The village has been completely totaled and the Godaime Hokage is currently incapacitated. Many elite shinobi lost their lives."

Miho knew better than to inquire about Kakashi, but Madara had volunteered the information himself—something had changed the Leader's resolution, and after destroying the village and nearly fifty percent of its fighting force, he had restored it back to life.

_A god_, they called Akatsuki's Leader. Miho wished she had known of this ability before; perhaps she could have asked him to return Itachi back to her just so she could kill him herself, seeing how desperately he had wanted to die.

"So now what?" Sasuke demanded. "What about Danzou and the others—"

"Danzou has been named Hokage and is currently on his way to the Kage Summit."

"I thought Kakashi would be the next Hokage," said Miho. "Danzou doesn't have the villagers' trust."

"Yes, but he has a smooth tongue and Kakashi is too young. Danzou convinced the council that they needed someone to rule Konoha with an iron fist during these dangerous times."

"So you want us to go to the Kage Summit," clarified Sasuke.

"It's not the matter of what _I_ want, Sasuke. But surely it rankles you to see Danzou become Hokage at your own brother's expense?"

Sasuke did not need any additional convincing—he was too easily manipulated. The team changed directions immediately, with Madara now joining them. Miho was displeased with their rerouting. So much for not being indebted to Madara.

Now, after days of travel and a botched infiltration to boot, she sat next to the old Uchiha as they gazed down at the culmination of Danzou and Sasuke's battle.

"I know what you're thinking," said Madara as he stood by her.

"What am I thinking?" replied Miho calmly, her eyes flickering as Sasuke's chakra grew icier with Susano'o.

"You're waiting until Sasuke finishes off Danzou—if he can," he added in near afterthought. There was no need for the respectful comment; anyone could see that Sasuke, robust and strong at fifteen, was close to finishing Danzou, whose age was finally catching up to him. "Then, after he is weakened and injured, you will close in and kill him."

"He wouldn't be injured if he'd listened to me," she responded. "And if Zetsu hadn't been an ass."

She had been more than cooperative with their initial attack. From afar, Karin had noted a high-caliber sensor accompanying the Mizukage. With only Miho able to conceal her chakra completely while simultaneously sensing, she had been the first to penetrate the Kage's meeting place, followed closely behind by Zetsu. She had finally mapped out a safe route for Taka to enter without notice when Zetsu had popped up right in front of the Kages and yelled out cheerily, "Uchiha Sasuke is here! The question is, _where_?"

Instead of following Miho out through the escape route, Sasuke had made the stupid decision to fight against the Mizukage directly. He then had gotten his ass handed to him, which caused Madara to save him and teleport him to safety. Miho had left in pursuit of Danzou, all the while thinking the same statement that had occupied her mind for the last month: Sasuke was such a _child._

Of course, that was only when it came to following directions. Sasuke had proven himself in the fight against Danzou, showing uncustomary genius for his lack of battle experience. When Danzou—done with the repetitive dying-yet-surviving routine—finally collapsed, Miho got to her feet.

"Do you think you can do it?" said Madara, his tone unctuous. He did not believe she could.

"If you don't interfere," she said as she tied her hair up into a bun.

"I gave you my word," he reminded her. "I told you I would let you try…and die. You do not hold the capability to kill Sasuke, no matter how injured he is. Your will was weak to begin with, and it has only grown shakier over this past month with your constant reminders of how young Sasuke is, of how innocent he is…"

"He is not innocent," she said, her voice burning.

"He is not guilty," countered Madara. "Itachi set up everything. Sasuke was a child when he had his parents slaughtered in front of his very eyes. No amount of brotherly affection before could undo the murder of his parents."

_He's still a child_, thought Miho when she did not answer. She knew that Madara was right; if anyone was truly at fault, it was Itachi. And though Sasuke had grown colder and colder as they'd neared the Kage Summit, Miho did not miss the occasional demonstrations of warmth Sasuke sometimes showed her: blankets over her shoulders when she slept, the curt inquiry of her well being when she struggled with the rain or just her general weariness, the extra portion of food when they ate. She had to remind herself that they in no way excused Sasuke. He had still been the one to kill Itachi, even though Madara had shown her Zetsu's recording of the fight, and she now knew that Itachi had collapsed on his own.

"I won't interfere," Madara said, reaffirming his promise. "See if you can bring yourself to kill Itachi's beloved little brother."

Miho hesitated, watching as Sasuke stood shakily over Danzou's fallen body. _Idiot_, she thought as Sasuke let his guard down. _He's not dead._

Just as Miho expected, Danzou stood up in a surge of power and grabbed Karin, holding her hostage in front of him. What little remained of Sasuke's chakra turned even colder, and before Miho could register what happened, Sasuke had stabbed both Karin and Danzou through with Chidori. Danzou's chakra flickered and disappeared while Karin dropped to the ground, her chakra seeping out like blood from her wound.

_Look, Itachi. Look how far your little brother has fallen because you swore to protect him._

Without another word to Madara, Miho skidded down the cliff she had perched on, picking up speed as she went. Her chakra was concealed while Sasuke's writhed and expanded with his cold and hateful mirth, and before he knew what was happening, Miho's sword was unsheathed and curled around his neck.

Had it not been for the unexpected presence of Haruno Sakura, Miho would have slit his jugular clean. Instead, at the sight of Sakura's pink hair, Sasuke moved to the left and Miho's slash ended up shallow. With a snarl, he whipped backward and grabbed the blade with one hand; overpowered, Miho released the blade and allowed Sasuke to throw it away, where it clattered several meters from them.

"What are you doing?!" he bellowed, ignoring the stunned Sakura behind him.

Miho grimaced. She had missed Sakura's chakra because of Sasuke's overwhelming one—a costly mistake.

"I asked you a question!" he shouted, gripping the side of his neck tightly. His voice echoed throughout the valley. Blood seeped between his fingers; perhaps the cut had been deeper than she'd thought.

"Why are you so surprised?" she said serenely. "I'm doing the same thing you are."

"I'm killing _them_!" Sasuke screamed, his eyes bulging. "I'm killing everyone who took advantage of Itachi, _all of them_!"

"But that includes you," snarled Miho, "and you know it—when Itachi died, you reaped all the benefits. You said it yourself: _this is my right_."

"It's not! He was _my_ brother, not yours! I'm the only blood he had left, and this is _my_ right and mine alone!"

Another chakra signature entered Miho's range: Kakashi. Her grimace deepened—she needed to finish this quickly, because who knew what Kakashi wanted with Sasuke…

Behind Sasuke, Sakura's body moved toward him, a sharpened steel kunai clutched tightly in her hand. Miho's body moved on its own. She Summoned a kunai of her own, shoved Sasuke aside and blocked Sakura's attack in a metallic clang—the sound was harsh and nearly ear-splitting; the clash had occurred so quickly that Miho's arm shook with the effort it took to keep Sakura's monstrous strength at bay.

Sakura looked as surprised as Miho felt. Miho knew that somewhere above them, Madara was laughing and making a mental note to tell Kisame that the shark had lost their bet—that Miho had not been able to kill Itachi's little brother after all. Instead, she'd ended up protecting him.

The situation was so ridiculous that Miho wanted to laugh, too.

It gave Sasuke an opportunity to grab Miho by the shoulder and push her against the wall as he forced the kunai out of her hand. She had lost her chance; there was no way she could overpower Sasuke now. Perhaps she had thrown the chance away too easily…but no matter how her hatred simmered and frothed, as she looked up at Sasuke now, he seemed even smaller than she'd ever remembered him to be. Like a broken toy. Maybe they'd all been Itachi's toys to play with.

"I didn't want to kill you," Sasuke said, his hand shaking. "Out of everyone, I thought you would understand."

"I do," she said quietly. "Isn't trying to kill you showing that I understand?"

"It doesn't! Itachi died…protecting me. Why would you—"

"Itachi died protecting Konoha, too," Miho said. "It didn't stop you, did it?"

Sasuke seemed to be at a loss for words. Sakura made an uncertain movement toward them, but Miho held up a hand, stopping her.

"He'll get to you in a minute," she said. "In the meantime, you could always treat Karin." She turned her attention back to Sasuke. He was taller than her by quite a bit. Perhaps he wasn't the child she seemed to think. He had just taken down one of Konoha's strongest leaders by himself.

Sasuke's neck was bleeding profusely, but he didn't seem to notice it. At the rate he was losing blood, though, he would pass out soon and, if left untreated, die.

Miho raised her hand to Sasuke's shoulder. The kunai at her throat pressed deeper, piercing the first several layers of skin, but she ignored it and with a brush of her index finger sealed Sasuke's cut.

"You fight too recklessly," she said softly. "You're too confident. Itachi was much more careful. You should learn from him."

Sasuke didn't know what to say. Miho let out a deep breath, exhausted. So this was how it would end. What a sad, pitiful end to a life where she had spent so much time angry, hateful, and anguished. Now, at least, she felt very empty, much like how she had felt when she'd woken up knowing Itachi was gone.

"Go on. Do it."

Sasuke didn't move. She goaded him.

"If you're a man, Sasuke, do it."

His hand was trembling violently, now, and amidst the fury in his eyes, Miho thought she saw something along the lines of fear. At least the boy was learning. Fear made you smarter.

"Why," he whispered. "Why, just stay out of my way…you want this too, you want me to kill them."

"Him," she said wearily. "Just Danzou. The councilors. Leave the rest alone."

"No—all of them, for Itachi, I'll kill them all—"

"Then kill me as well. I don't mind," she said. She closed her eyes. "I don't mind dying by the same hand that killed Itachi."

Sasuke grabbed her collar with his free hand.

"That was a mistake," he said with burning coldness. "You know, you know how much it…"

"Hurt you," she finished for him. "But I assure you, Sasuke, that it hurt me more…it destroyed me…knowing that I could not avenge him because killing you would go against his dying will. I tried, Sasuke. I tried so, so hard to kill you. Every night you were sleeping, I would pass by and think of how easy it would be to slit your throat in the dark. Once, when everyone else was sleeping, I knelt in front of you, dagger in hand. One cut and that was all it would've taken, Sasuke. But I didn't. 'Wait until after he kills Danzou,' I told myself. 'Wait until after he kills the councilors. Then, when he's weak, kill him off.' So I waited, Sasuke. I waited until today, and I tried, but…" She smiled wearily. "Who knows if it was you or me that stopped it. But I can't do it anymore, little Sasuke. Maybe it is because it's Itachi's dying will…but I can't do it. So you do it instead, Sasuke. I'm tired of living. A life without Itachi…it's not a life at all, especially when I can't kill you to satiate my revenge."

Sasuke's face was contorted in pain.

"I…if you want revenge, then you should _join_ me, you should help me kill them, destroy Konoha, destroy this entire world that—"

"Forget it. I'm weary."

"Of what?!"

"Of living."

"Miho—"

"Sasuke."

The name came out gently but firmly. This was an order, and she knew that Sasuke could not say no.

"Do it, Sasuke."

She saw Sasuke's mouth twist, as if he were grinding his teeth together…then…

The kunai moved forward.

Miho smiled. She shouldn't have waited an entire month. From the very beginning, she had known that this would be her end. How many times had she told Itachi that she could not live without him? And even then, Itachi had just gone off and died.

Killed himself, as Kisame had said.

Yes, Itachi had killed himself, and there was nothing Miho could have done to stop him. What a poor choice on her part, if choice had been involved in the equation at all.

She closed her eyes. This was the end, finally, and she wondered if the afterlife would be happier than this; she wondered if Itachi would be there, if he would be glad to see her or angry that she had tried to kill the little brother he had loved more than her. _I was jealous_, she would say, and they would be left with an eternity to reconcile their differences, an eternity for her to eventually forgive him.

This was what she wanted, at last.

Peace. Rest. Finality.

She could feel it, the cold sting of a well-sharpened blade shoved roughly against her skin and she knew that Sasuke did not want to do the deed. All the same, he had to—there was nothing else left, because without Itachi there was no future, no chance of pardon, of them living at the edge of Konoha with him, their little house and garden and two children—

Miho snapped her eyes open. Reflexively, her hand went up to grapple with Sasuke's wrist and hold it still, preventing him from slicing open her throat.

"Stop," she heard herself scream in a voice she didn't recognize. "Stop, don't move, _stop_—"

Sasuke obeyed, bewildered as he looked down at her. But Miho did not see him; she didn't see anything in front of her. She was too focused on what was inside of her.

Slowly, she brought a hand up to her stomach.

_Impossible_, was the one numb word that came to mind.

She concentrated, thinking that in the heat of the moment, she had made a mistake. Her sensing was clouded because of Sasuke's chakra, there was no way…

But it was unmistakable. There were small but precisely rhythmic pulses of chakra deep within her stomach where no chakra pulsed in such a manner. And like a ghost, a passage she had read when she'd been looking up methods to improve her own fertility rose to the forefront of her mind.

_Twenty-two days after conception, the fetus's heart will begin beating, and by day twenty-eight, the first chakra reserves will form in the left atrium, where it will then carry through the rest of the body with every pump of blood. By this time, medical technology can sense both the chakra beats and heartbeat. Medical nin with sensor background can sense these beats on their own. _

_It is often the first confirmation of pregnancy._

* * *

free talk:

so things come to a full circle, from chapter one to twenty-seven. forgot to mention this last chapter, but thanks again to wingedmercury for beta-ing.

in all kinds of stories, there are two plots twists that i feel are signs of desperation: the pregnancy card in dramas and time travel in futuristic/sci-fi (unless the premise of the entire series to begin with was either of the two.) yet, as much as i hate, hate, hate pulling pregnancy card, this is something that i had planned for a long time because there was legitimately no reason for miho to remain alive otherwise. at least it didn't come completely out of the blue...?

i've been trying to not let my emotions cloud my portrayals of characters (i.e. karin) and it actually turned out for the better. i ended up, if not liking her, at least being more sympathetic than i had been before (when i'd first read the chapter sasuke stabbed karin, i thought it was the best chapter ever...which was not nice.)

thank you for all your encouragement so far. please review :) it keeps me going.

xoxo,  
m.n


	28. Wills and Wants

**Chapter 28: Wills and Wants**

Sasuke rested in another one of Madara's caverns, his eyes bandaged and his head throbbing. Nevertheless, he could feel the power surging through his body. The implantation of Itachi's eyes had resulted in a heavy but somehow comforting pressure in his head, as if this was where Itachi's eyes belonged.

With Sasuke, the last Uchiha.

The title almost made Sasuke smile. He was the last surviving member of the greatest clan to ever walk the face of the earth. Konoha had massacred the Uchiha clan. Now, with these eyes of his, the last Uchiha would annihilate Konoha.

The fact that Sasuke had lost his entire team did not perturb him. Karin was dead or captured, and Juugo and Suigetsu were nowhere nearby. But Sasuke had no need for teammates. Not when one was too scared of death to even die properly. Miho was such a coward. All that talk about dying because Itachi was no longer alive…only to beg Sasuke to stop at the last second. Why had his brother chosen such a spineless woman to live with him for the last three years?

Miho had been so still after she'd begged him to stop. Sasuke was right about to go ahead and slice her jugular when more familiar faces appeared. Kakashi, weaker than Sasuke was now…the sight of Kakashi's Mangekyou had infuriated him. Kakashi was not a true Uchiha—he did not deserve to reap the rewards of the Sharingan. But Sasuke had not gotten the chance to rip that eye out of its socket. Naruto had interfered…and he had the gall to say that the next time they clashed, both would die. What nonsense. Madara would not let Sasuke retaliate, and Sasuke's blindness forced him to comply. Now, though, he was restless. Naruto would be his next victim. Sasuke would not die—he was the last Uchiha, and he had a goal to fulfill. Naruto's threat that they would both die was pathetically empty.

Sasuke was not frightened of death or power. He had his eyes and he had his hatred.

They were the only weapons the last Uchiha needed.

* * *

"We'll stop here for tonight."

The rest of the team looked relieved with the order. They had been traveling nonstop since Madara had disappeared with Sasuke. Kakashi had sent Kiba and Rock Lee ahead of them to alert the rest of the Konoha council about what had happened, along with the report that they had captured one of Sasuke's old teammates and Chiaki Miho.

Miho sat down against a tree, gingerly lifting her handcuffed wrists and placing them on her knees. The unfriendly steel was heavy and cut into her skin, but what bothered her the most was that they prevented any exertion of her chakra. Not only was she blind to her surroundings, she could also no longer feel the comforting beat inside her stomach. Now that she could not sense it, she could not tell if she had imagined it or not. Maybe she had, and she had just passed on a glorious opportunity for Sasuke to kill her.

But she knew she was deluding herself—she had forced Sasuke to stay still for over thirty seconds as she made sure that she wasn't imagining things. In that time, Kakashi had arrived, followed swiftly by Naruto. There had been an exchange of blows and declarations, but Miho could only focus on herself. She was fairly certain.

The decision to go with the Konoha shinobi had been an easy one. There was no way in hell she would have entrusted herself to Madara.

She did not tell anyone why she had suddenly changed her mind. Sasuke thought she was a coward—he had minced no words with his final parting. Kakashi seemed bemused, but oddly enough was glad to see that she was not raging to kill them or herself. Instead, he had put her in chains quite apologetically and had ordered Naruto to guard her.

Miho stared off into space, unwilling to talk to anyone. Kakashi had been carrying Karin, and after Sakura's emergency treatment, the girl had been sullen and quiet the entire journey. Miho did not blame her; being stabbed always left some kind of shock. She knew from personal experience.

"Fish?"

Naruto handed her a lightly roasted fish on a stick. Miho took it wordlessly and wafted its scent toward her nose. She did not feel nauseous. Did she not have morning sickness, or had she made a mistake? There had been no sign of pregnancy over the last month: no nausea, no bump in her belly, and her menstrual cycle had always been irregular. She had not seen this coming.

Itachi and his stupid sperm. Swimming too hard at the wrong time.

"Are you okay?" said Naruto anxiously.

Miho looked at him suspiciously. This was very different treatment from what she'd received in that cabin several weeks ago. Kakashi had always been kind to her, but when she thought about it, the last time they'd seen each other, she'd left with Madara on her own volition. Not to mention that she'd "abandoned" Konoha before that. The last thing Kakashi should have been treating her with was kindness. She knew him better than that. Duty was his honor. Even Naruto treated her very differently from before—something about his manner bordered sympathetic.

It clicked.

"You know," she said with conviction.

Naruto looked startled.

"K-Know what?" he asked nervously. He was a terrible liar. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know the truth about Itachi. How did—"

"Kakashi-sensei!" howled Naruto in aggravation. "I swear I didn't say anything—all I asked was if she was okay and she guessed! I swear I didn't do anything!"

"Shut up, Naruto," said Sakura crossly. "You'll wake up every bear in this damn forest! What are you screeching about?"

"Kakashi-sensei!"

"Be quiet, Naruto," said Kakashi as he ambled over. "I told you to act normally."

"I just asked if she was okay!"

"Sensei, what's going on?" demanded Sakura.

Kakashi heaved a sigh.

"Naruto, go explain things to Sakura and then keep quiet. Make sure Sai is on the lookout. I'll talk with Miho."

His students obeyed and left them. Kakashi glanced at Karin, who was leaning against a tree several feet away, but she seemed to have fallen asleep.

"Eat," said Kakashi. "You look starved."

"How do you know about Itachi?" Miho asked. "Did the councilors tell you?"

"No," said Kakashi heavily. "Madara did."

"…Why?"

"I don't know. I suppose to explain why Sasuke wasn't going to come back to Konoha…and why he declared war on it instead." Kakashi sat across from her, looking wearier than she had ever seen him. His former student had just tried to kill him, after all. Miho could not help but feel somewhat sorry for Kakashi. "Did Madara tell you as well? When you two disappeared that time?"

Miho nodded her head jerkily.

"I've asked Naruto to keep it quiet for now," he said. "There is not enough proof…and telling everyone now would throw Konoha into more chaos than it is in already."

"It's true," said Miho in a steely tone.

"It does appear to be that way," said Kakashi tiredly. "All your research points in that direction as well."

Miho noticed that Kakashi was not only speaking in a very clipped manner, but that he also did not seem as taken aback as Naruto clearly was.

"You're not surprised," she said.

"I've been involved with ANBU long enough to know how these things work," he admitted.

"This wasn't one or two assassinations, Kakashi—it was the massacre of an entire _clan_!" she hissed. "And they ordered _Itachi_ to slaughter his own family!"

"Would it have been better if Konoha had been engulfed in war instead?" countered Kakashi.

"They could've worked it out!" she retorted.

"You don't understand," he said evenly. "You saw how irrational Sasuke has become—he just tried to kill Sakura without a second thought. Hatred affects Uchiha members differently than it does others. Ordering Itachi to kill the clan was very clearly the last resort."

"More like the easiest resort," she snarled. "Konoha took advantage of Itachi's pacifism—they knew that he could never betray the village, could never abandon it—"

"Every true Konoha shinobi would have done the same thing," said Kakashi quietly. "Myself included."

"But you didn't!" she shouted at him. Naruto and Sakura jumped at the sound and looked back. "You didn't have to, you didn't have to kill your own friends and family because the village wanted you to—don't act like you understand him, Kakashi, you don't!"

"I understand Uchiha Itachi more than you could ever could, Miho," he responded calmly.

"You weren't there," she said, enraged that Kakashi could even suggest that he knew Itachi in the slightest. "You weren't there when he struggled, when he was in pain or full of guilt—only I was, and you have no right—"

"You are blinded by what you've lost, Miho. You fail to see that Itachi's sacrifice—"

"Was in vain," she spat.

"Saved Konoha," Kakashi said loudly, drowning out her scathing statement. "You think he regretted it, Miho, but I can safely say that if he loved Konoha half the amount I believe he truly does, he regretted nothing. If he had the chance to do it all over again, he would."

Miho let out a weary scoff and looked away. She knew what Kakashi was thinking—that she was selfish, that she could not see the big picture, that Itachi had saved the village of her family and generations of ancestors. She knew Kakashi was right, but she did not care.

"You think you know him because you're just the same," she said, her voice now tempered. "Duty is your honor, and justice the flag you wave when you wield your blade for the greater good. You think your sacrifices are never in vain and your own will is worth nothing because something is always bigger and more important than you."

Kakashi's eye flickered. She had hit the nail on the head.

"But I'm not like you," she continued. "I have no honor. But I know what justice is. And no matter what you say…what happened to Itachi was not just. Just because that village meant the world to him, Kakashi, didn't mean his own will meant nothing. Just because Itachi didn't regret what he did doesn't mean it was right. And just because Itachi thought he had to die…doesn't ever mean he ever wanted to. You may believe that self-sacrifice makes the perfect shinobi…but not a single perfect shinobi would look back on his life and genuinely think that his life was worth living when he had no will at all."

She looked at him now, her gaze unwavering but her eyes slightly wet. When she continued to speak, though, her voice was steady.

"Do you know why someone as self-sacrificial as Itachi was attracted to someone as selfish as I am?" she asked him.

Kakashi hesitated, and then shook his head.

"Because he was jealous," she answered softly. "Because he wanted to not care, just like I did not. Because I was his complete opposite, and I could abandon my duty as a Konoha nin for something I loved more. And because that something was him."

* * *

Konoha was in a sorry state when Miho returned to her old home. The damage from Pein's invasion had been vast and would take time to repair; several buildings had been haphazardly erected and would serve as strongholds for the civilians, but on the whole, the only structure that seemed to be mildly presentable was the Hokage's Tower, which seemed uninhabited.

With the rest of Konoha's medical team either dead or tending to the multitudes still injured, Shizune was the only one treating the Godaime in her comatose state. Upon news of their arrival, Shizune asked for Kakashi to bring both Sakura and Miho to see the Godaime for a purely medical discussion. Miho was obviously not allowed to touch the Hokage, but one look at Tsunade's old and wrinkled body had been sufficient. She handed over a vial of her blood and Shizune did the rest; Miho was immediately escorted out of sight and quarantined in a small cell. She was told hours later that Tsunade had woken up and was swiftly regaining her chakra. Miho, on the other hand, would have to remain in isolation as she waited for a hearing.

She was locked up for several days in a small, barely furnished room no bigger than five-and-a-half tatami mats in length and width. Adequate amounts of food and water were delivered to her once a day, which meant that she had not been forgotten, but Miho was in no rush. She spent the time without much struggle, instead mentally going away to some deep, dark place inside of her where her emotions toward Itachi rolled like waves. They were never consistent, coming and going in phases: sometimes an intense, aching sorrow, other times a frightening and all-consuming hatred. She thought of Danzou and the councilors, thought of Kakashi who believed he understood Itachi; she thought of Itachi and all the ironies he'd left her with, and she hated him all the more for them.

Her journals served as tangible forms of transportation down memory lane. Miho read only her own entries from her personal journals, barely touching the one she shared with Itachi. She could not bring herself to read her last letter for him, the one that had begged and pleaded for him to take what she offered him. She did not know if Itachi had ever read it, but some part of her knew that he had; yet, in the end, he'd still ignored her. This only fueled her anger, followed by that hollow feeling in her chest whenever she remembered that she had effectively been abandoned.

Other times, though, when she was not reading those journals and instead was trapped mulling between reality and dreams, she was seized with an odd kind of tranquility. The image of Danzou's dead body soothed her, and when Miho imagined what it would be like to see the councilors' corpses as well, she felt something quite close to elation.

She had to be more controlled than that. There were only two options in front of her: kill the councilors, and her child would surely die; save her child, and forgo all hopes of revenge.

Two truly shitty choices, especially when Miho sometimes was not certain she even wanted to keep this child. What was the point? They would grow up in Konoha, the village that had taken everything away from her. Konoha knew nothing about Itachi's true actions and even if Kakashi reported the truth, the council would never allow the public to know it. Her child would grow up hated and scorned. Itachi was not here, and that pathetic dream of hers would never come true. Miho would raise the child alone, when she herself wanted nothing better to die.

Would it be so selfish if she did not want to keep this life?

Five days later, when Miho still had not made any concrete decisions, Kakashi came to her cell to announce that he would be making his report to the Hokage about the recent revelations regarding Itachi. He had been quite nonchalant with her the entire journey back. Miho knew she had struck a nerve with their last conversation, as Kakashi was another one of those true shinobi who would never understand her selfish streaks completely. Her motive to return peacefully to Konoha was also murky.

"Who else will be present?" she inquired as she was led toward the tower.

"The councilors. Some of my team," he answered shortly. He spoke with the tone of a soldier, not a friend. "I'll be making the report. Try your best not to react violently."

"Best keep me cuffed then," Miho said dryly as they stopped in front of the door. She could not help but be irritated with him.

"As an act of good faith," he said, unlocking the cuffs, "I won't."

She looked at him appraisingly.

"Careful, Kakashi," she said coolly. "Don't trick me into thinking you're on my side. That would be too cruel."

He paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"I do what I believe is right, Miho."

"And sometimes," she said, "that means absolutely nothing to me."

They entered the room, where everyone else had already gathered. One glance at the councilors caused a heated acidity to fill her from her stomach to her throat; she knew her murderous intent spiked, for Kakashi placed a hand on her shoulder in warning. Miho complied and forced her gaze elsewhere.

Tsunade looked well, perhaps as healthy as she had been before the invasion. She looked at Miho severely, her lips pursed, as she tapped a pen on the oaken desk she sat behind.

"I suppose thanks are in order," said Tsunade, nodding at Miho. "For your blood."

"I told you before that I'd make an exception for you," she said nonchalantly. "I'm glad to see you well. The news that Danzou had replaced you was…alarming."

"Clearly, it alarmed Sasuke quite a bit," said Tsunade, an edge in her voice. She was clearly not taken with the news that Sasuke had tried to kill her student and his ex-teammate.

"For good reason," returned Miho in the same tone.

"Watch your tongue," said Koharu warningly.

Miho gave a smile that failed to impress anyone. Tsunade narrowed her eyes and waved for Kakashi to approach.

"Kakashi told me he has news involving everyone in this room," she said. "He says you, Naruto, Sakura, as well as Yamato from ANBU all know information regarding Uchiha Itachi."

Miho did not miss the look exchanged between the two councilors. She swallowed her anger and kept her voice even when she replied.

"I think Kakashi will present it better than I would," she managed.

Tsunade nodded and gestured for Kakashi to begin. Before he did, he gave Miho a long, lingering look, as if he were making a significant decision.

_Lie_, thought Miho, _and I will kill you where you stand_.

She was a fool to ever think that Kakashi would lie. With every truthful word, Kakashi gave absolutely no indication of siding with any side as he told everything; even his chakra was unreadable. His gaze did not waver from the Hokage's, and even though every syllable coming out of his mouth was blasphemous, he told the tale so boringly that any casual listener might have yawned.

Of course, no one in the room was a casual listener. Miho found Tsunade's chakra rising with each second, as all color seemed to drain away from the councilors' faces.

"…Is this true?" said Tsunade when Kakashi finally finished his report in that painfully neutral tone of his. Tsunade's voice, on the other hand, was steadied only by a latent and unspeakable anger.

Neither of the councilors said anything.

"Answer me!" roared Tsunade, slamming her palm down on her desk and snapping it in two.

"It is true," said Koharu stiffly.

"_The entire clan_?!"

"We had no choice," said Mitokado gravely. "Itachi told us that the coup was going to happen within the month—there was not enough time."

"And did no one think about sitting the Uchiha leaders down and talking things through?!"

"Of course we did. Multiple times. They did not listen to us. Their demands were too great."

Tsunade sank down into her chair, her chakra rippling through her body violently.

"Did you know this?" she said, rounding on Miho now. "That time we were talking about Itachi—did you know the truth?"

"No," she replied. "I was doing some research in the historical archives and everything seemed to point at suspicions of the Uchiha clan. When I finally left Konoha, it was because there was no more information I could get here. The answers had to lie with Itachi."

"We didn't think he would tell anyone," said Koharu sullenly.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as Miho stared at her, eyes ablaze.

"He didn't," she said icily.

"Tsunade-sama," said Mitokado respectfully, "please understand that we truly had no choice. The Uchiha clan has historically been one full of hatred and rage—your own grandfather fought tooth and nail to protect Konoha from Uchiha Madara. After the Kyuubi attack, we could not afford to let the clan operate freely. It was to protect the citizens of Konoha."

"_They_ were citizens of Konoha," snapped Tsunade.

"They were enemies from within," returned Koharu. "As Hokage, you must understand that this was for the greater good, and it left a bitter taste in everyone's mouths—"

"I'm sure it left the worst taste in Itachi's mouth," said Miho coldly. "The taste of his parents' blood and all."

"It was a necessary sacrifice!" the old woman insisted. "They were dangers to Konoha, they wanted to overthrow the government—"

"Including her?!" demanded Tsunade, pointing a finger at Miho. "She was a child! Fifteen! She knew nothing!"

It had not quite occurred to Miho that she had been lumped together with the rest of the Uchiha clan as a target of the massacre. At this point, though, she doubted she could be angrier than she was already.

"She was a necessary precaution…a loose end that needed to be cut," muttered Mitokado, refusing to look Miho in the eye.

She was always a loose end…though at least Madara had been considerate enough to alert her of her status.

"A child!" bellowed the Hokage.

"They were not children!" shouted Koharu. "They are shinobi—shinobi of Konoha! And their duty is to live and die for their village, just as we had when we were young—"

"Except," said Miho, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife, "you seem to be quite alive to me."

All heads turned to her, and Mitokado seemed to note nervously that Miho was not handcuffed.

"Is that a threat, Chiaki Miho?" said the councilman. "You will already be tried as a traitor and missing-nin. Do not make your situation worse than it is. Five years with Orochimaru and aiding in the murder of the Sandaime, then three years of collaboration with Akatsuki—how many deaths are on your head, woman?"

"Precisely one-hundred and thirty six," she answered, even though she knew it was a rhetorical question. "One-hundred and twenty-four that Orochimaru made me kill. Twelve I killed on the operating table for Itachi."

Technically, Kisame had killed the rest, but that was a minor detail.

"How many of Konoha?" said Koharu forcefully. "All those deaths from Orochimaru's invasion, including the Sandaime Hokage's! All that blood is on your hands!"

"If you were in my shoes, you'd understand that it's very hard to tell Orochimaru 'no' when he doesn't want to hear it," said Miho.

"Excuses!" screeched the old woman. "Your duty is to protect your village! By allowing him in, you nearly brought this village to the brink of destruction!"

Miho knew she had no defenses for the crimes she'd done, no matter how she'd been coerced into them. Tsunade could not help her in the slightest. After all, Miho was an indirect cause of the Sandaime's death. Sakura and Naruto were not even jounin—they had no political voice whatsoever, even though both of them looked severely uncomfortable with the exchange.

Kakashi, on the other hand, was as impassive as ever. Miho did not expect him to say a word—his loyalty remained with Konoha, and more than once had he already urged her to stay with the village. She had refused, defecting on two separate accounts. That was as much of a betrayal as any. Kakashi had already told the truth as neutrally as he could, without any added notes that he would have done the same as Itachi. It was all Miho could expect from him, especially when Kakashi's fundamentals clashed so much with her own.

"Many more of your jounin would be dead if I'd followed through with what Orochimaru wanted," was all Miho could manage.

"Such insolence!"

"She's telling the truth, actually." Miho nearly jumped at the sound of Kakashi's voice. "If Miho had done what Orochimaru had ordered her to do, I would be dead."

Miho would have never claimed that, considering she could not kill Kakashi in a thousand lifetimes. She stared at him, somewhat wary that he was speaking for her.

"Additionally," the Copy Nin continued, "after the attack, Miho remained in Konoha specifically to heal victims of the attack. Myself included."

"You were not injured—"

"Ah, yes, it was Itachi who tortured me with his genjutsu for seventy-two hours," said Kakashi with a smile, his one visible eye crinkled in a wink. "Miho kindly relieved me from its ramifications."

Both the councilors looked somewhat dismayed at Kakashi's intervention. "It does not pardon her crimes."

"No, but it shows that Chiaki Miho was in no way intending to bring harm to Konoha," returned Kakashi politely. "I believe that takes the charge of treason off the table."

"She defected from this village on her own volition," snapped Mitokado.

"The first time Chiaki Miho left this village, her unconscious body was dragged off by Orochimaru," Kakashi said. "Konoha did not pursue the reason behind her missing body because the amount of blood at the scene of the crime indicated that she could only be dead." His eye flickered to meet hers. "This was my fault. I was the one who gave that report…and if I had been more careful, perhaps we could have saved her. When Chiaki Miho returned five years later, she did not harm a single Konoha nin, even during Orochimaru's invasion. After the Sandaime's death, Chiaki Miho left Konoha to find information about Itachi. I believe we can all agree that Konoha's government would not have received her warmly at the time, and that pursuing Itachi for revenge was, though not ideal, at least reasonable. Finally, when she returned three years later after nearly being killed Akatsuki, Tsunade-sama gave her pardon after interrogation. Miho did not leave the village on her own will. According to Sai, one of my students and a member of Root, Danzou kidnapped her and traded her to Orochimaru. From these separate incidents, it is fair to conclude that Chiaki Miho did not abandon this village. This village abandoned her."

Miho stared at him, stunned. She had never told Kakashi that Danzou had kidnapped her; she had been on her way out the front gate of Konoha to begin with. The words that Miho had repeated so often to herself—that Konoha had abandoned her—seemed sacrilegious coming out of Kakashi's mouth.

"Watch what you say, Hatake Kakashi!" spat Mitodako. "You are a shinobi of Konoha, the village you are sworn to protect!"

"It is my duty to protect this village," he agreed, "and I will continue to do so with every breath left in me. Yet this village has its own duty as well: to protect the shinobi who live and die for it. Mitokado-sama, Koharu-sama, we are long past the day and age when shinobi were merely seen as tools. When my father fell to disgrace, it was because he chose the lives of his teammates above the completion of the mission. Konoha learned a significant lesson from my father and has become a better village because of it. The bonds between Konoha's shinobi make the shinobi loyal. Uchiha Itachi died for this village because he loved this village. Even though this village abandoned her, Chiaki Miho has not raised a single hand against this village because she loves it just as much."

_You are so wrong. I hate this village just as much as Itachi loved it._

But she did not say any of this aloud; Kakashi had presented her case and as long as Miho kept her mouth shut, he had won it.

Tsunade, who had closed her eyes throughout Kakashi's speech, finally opened them. Some of the anger in her had diminished, and in the time, she had brought her chakra back under control.

"Shizune, escort the councilors out," commanded the Godaime. "Keep them in their quarters—I will speak to both of you later. Sakura, contact Ibiki and Inoichi. Schedule Chiaki Miho for another interrogation and scan. Naruto, go find Sai and bring him to me later—I want to hear everything about what Danzou has been doing with Orochimaru behind my back. Kakashi, Chiaki Miho, you two will remain."

For a second, no one made a move. Tsunade's jade eyes flashed.

"Go!"

There was a sudden flurry of movement as they all scrambled to follow her orders. Tsunade waited until the doors shut behind Naruto, who had been straggling behind to mutter something to Kakashi, before she spoke again.

"Sit, both of you," she said, indicating to two plush chairs that were pushed along the walls. "Bring those in front of me."

She lifted her own chair with one hand over the splintered wood that used to be her desk and brought it in front of the rubble. She sat in it and heaved a sigh, her green eyes piercing as she surveyed both of them.

"Well done, Kakashi," she said. "You are fit to be Hokage. No one could even tell you were angry."

"Thank you," he said mildly.

"I believe you owe Kakashi some thanks," said Tsunade to Miho.

"No need," said Kakashi immediately. "I merely did what I believed was right. I only hope it meant more than nothing to you this time."

Miho's cheeks burned in shame.

"I apologize," she said, her throat tight. "You didn't need to do that for me."

Kakashi's eye crinkled into that crescent shape it made whenever he smiled. "I am always on your side, Miho."

Hearing the truth finally spoken aloud, in front of those who had caused it in the first place, made her incredibly emotional—her anger had exited with the councilors and she was now left with an odd ache of gratefulness for Kakashi's constant kindness. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back before looking up at Tsunade.

"…Thank you, Kakashi," she said, looking down at her hands, twisted in her lap. She felt like a child. "Hokage-sama, what do you intend to do?"

Tsunade looked at Miho levelly.

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "I mean no offense, Miho, but I have more pressing issues than sentencing you to death or whatever punishment you deserve by law. Nevertheless, even though Kakashi has argued for you so eloquently, the fact of the matter remains that you pursued a man you believed to be an S-Class criminal and lived with him for three years doing God knows what…the council will call for your execution. Of course, if the truth is released to the public, you could not possibly be harmed, but Konoha is on the brink of war and if the citizens can't trust their government, then…"

Tsunade let the sentence trail off. Miho knew what she was implying and gave no indication of her approval. She did not want the truth to be buried with Itachi. If Miho could not kill the councilors, then at least Itachi had to be posthumously pardoned.

Tsunade saw that Miho was not yielding any ground.

"Very well," said the Hokage heavily. "I will think about what to do with the information. In the meantime, I want to know exactly what kind of relationship you and Itachi had, from the beginning to the end. I want to know why you have chosen to return to Konoha rather than stay by Sasuke, seeing as your goals should be the same if they are motivated by hatred."

Miho did not want to say everything. There were things between Itachi and her that needed to remain unspoken, because they were special, but most of all, because no one else would understand. No matter if Tsunade and Kakashi knew the truth—they still did not know Itachi. They saw him as the true and perfect shinobi now…they praised him and they pitied him. They did not love him.

But Tsunade needed to know whether she could trust Miho, and there was no way she could unless Miho conveyed just what Itachi meant to her—that absolutely everything good and bad, she had done for him.

So when Miho spoke, she tried adopting the same method of speaking that Kakashi had employed. Neutral and plain, she told them of how Deidara and Sasori had freed her from Orochimaru's dungeon, of how both she and Itachi had struggled so hard initially to hate each other before both their resolves had crumbled on the mission to the Land of the Mist. She spoke briefly of Kusagakure, never admitting aloud that were the happiest days of her life. She spoke of Itachi's disease, of their marriage, of Miho's true motive in returning to Konoha. She spoke of the beginning of the end, when Itachi's heart had nearly collapsed and she had experimented on prisoners to save him.

She spoke of Itachi's resolve to die, the one resolve she could only shake but never break.

Tsunade listened raptly, her face only betraying surprise when she learned that Miho and Itachi's marriage had been legal. When Miho finally finished, this realization seemed to annoy Tsunade considerably.

"Married," she scoffed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Legally. And no one in Kusagakure thought to alert us when Uchiha Itachi—worth three million ryou—got _married._ We could've found Akatsuki ages ago…che." She looked back at Miho, her expression not unkind. "So you two were married. And you…loved him? Genuinely?"

Tsunade said the words uncertainly, though Miho had no idea why. Was that not clear enough?

She merely nodded.

"Even when you came back?" clarified Tsunade. "When you told me that you wanted to kill him?"

"…Why is this so hard to believe?" asked Miho.

"Because you…you spoke of him with such hatred at the time," said Tsunade. "I could read it in your chakra…see it in your face. I could tell some part of you cared deeply for him, but when you said you wanted to kill him…I was sure you did."

Miho looked down at her hands as she thought. She had wanted to kill Itachi at multiple times in her life. When she hated him, she had hated him almost as much as she loved him. Everything she felt for Itachi came in deep, crashing waves with no middle ground.

"…When I was little," said Miho, "I hated Itachi because I thought he was perfect. Smart, good-looking, loyal and filial…he was perfect to the point of being disgusting. But I was wrong. No one is perfect, least of all Itachi. He was the perfect shinobi, but that meant nothing. I learned that the hard way…and I learned that I hated that side of him. He never relied on anyone else because he believed he was perfect. He only did what was right."

"He always knew how to make me hate him," she said, lost in thought. "When Kakashi found us in Kusagakure, Itachi tortured me in front of him because he did not want Kakashi to think I was with Akatsuki voluntarily. I only had to think about how Itachi could hurt me without hesitation and I was overcome with a great hatred and desire to harm him as well. You're not entirely wrong, Tsunade-sama. I did want to kill him at times. But I never could. What would be the point in me living if I did?" She leaned back in her chair and looked past Tsunade, at the blue sky and green treetops outside the window. "Itachi knew. With the weight of every selfless thing he did for Konoha, for Sasuke…Itachi had to be selfish about something. So he chose me. It's why he kept me around…it's why my presence sometimes made him feel like the lowest piece of shit…but it's why he could leave me."

Something in Tsunade's face was twisted, and Miho knew what she was thinking.

"…Miho," said Tsunade gently, "what do you want from us?"

Us? Us being Kakashi and her, or us being Konoha? Miho wanted nothing they could give her. She wanted Itachi back. She wanted the last ten years of her life back, she wanted to go back and shake the fifteen-year-old Itachi by the shoulders and scream at him, "Choose me! Choose me, _I understand you_, you're not perfect, you're just a kid, you don't have to do this, we can work it out, _choose me!_" She wanted to talk to Itachi now, to slap him and yell that he had left her with a child that she didn't want because she only wanted him, that the family she'd dreamed of was only worth it because he had been there, that _he'd_ been the only thing she'd ever wanted in her life.

The only person who had seen Miho cry since Itachi's death was Kisame. Now, even though Miho sat in front of Tsunade and Kakashi and knew that they would do her no harm, the tears could only well up in her eyes but could never fall.

When Miho looked at Tsunade, the image was blurry.

"I want amnesty," she said. "I want a home, safety, and protection from anyone that could harm me or the unborn child inside of me."

There was a silence as both Kakashi and Tsunade looked at her, then at her stomach, and then back up at her, speechless.

_See, Itachi. I choose to live, even when I do not want to._

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he was not sure what to expect. He had not expected to open his eyes in the first place.

His body seemed devoid of any feeling. Experimentally, he tested each finger and then each limb. Everything felt weightless, as if he were made of paper and was walking on clouds.

The Sharingan came to him as naturally as breathing. Every object in his environment sharpened; he was somewhere underground. There was a tunnel leading from outside to the open space he was resting. He seemed to be in a snake hole of sorts.

He sat up, suddenly aware that there was a tugging sensation on his body, as if he were a puppet connected by strings. He did not have free reign over his body. He took in a deep breath but felt no air fill his lungs. That should have been obvious. The dead had no need for air.

A torrent of memories flashed before his eyes. He was cornering Sasuke, could see the fear in his little brother's eyes, but he was not going to hurt him; he merely tapped him on the forehead, just like he had when they were younger, and then his heart had finally given out and he had fallen at last. There was no mistaking it—he had died, just as he had intended.

He stood up and formed a simple seal. The ground above him exploded and he leapt easily out of his prison. It was daylight outside. The sky was clear and blue, the trees as verdant as he remembered them to be. The sun shone brightly, but he felt no warmth. A gentle wind blew and tousled the leaves, but he did not feel the zephyr's kiss.

He only remembered the feeling of cool rainfall on his face, as gentle as tears.

* * *

"For the last time," bellowed Sakura, "we are in the middle of a fucking war! Don't bother us for a fucking scratch!"

In front of the pink-haired kunoichi was a stammering chuunin with a freshly bleeding cut on his left arm. "B-but Sakura-chan—"

"Don't fucking 'Sakura-chan' me!" she shouted, enraged. "There is a reason we teach basic medical jutsu to all units regardless of occupation—_so you can treat your own fucking scratches_! I don't have the time or chakra for your incompetence!"

Annoyed by the chuunin and a splitting headache, Miho tossed him a pack of antiseptic wipes and plaster that they could barely afford to give away.

"Wipe down your arm and bandage it so it doesn't get infected," she ordered. "Now get out of hell out of here."

The chuunin gave a nervous bow and left immediately, muttering something along the lines of "Heartless bitches" under his breath as he left.

"Might not want to call us 'heartless bitches' when you come back on a stretcher!" Sakura hollered after him. "I'll show you what's heartless then!" She dropped the tent flap in disgust. "What is _wrong_ with all of them?! Kakashi-sensei is out fighting the world's most dangerous shinobi—_dead or alive_—but you practically have to drag him back for treatment! And these kids have the gall to come in with scratches from friendly fire? To think he's the same rank as me!"

"Not really," said Miho as she took inventory of their supplies. "Ranks are worth nothing, Sakura. You're the Hokage's apprentice. Everyone knows your brain is worth ten of the average chuunin's."

Sakura blushed prettily at Miho's compliment.

"Sorry for losing it," she said, somewhat abashed. "That was very unprofessional."

"You didn't say anything I disagreed with," said Miho mildly.

Sakura grinned and began taking inventory of the medications. The two of them were in charge of the largest medical base out in the field, where the fighting was densest. They had too many patients, too little supplies, and truthfully only two competent medics. Miho had heard Sakura's favorite rant more than three times now—that the medical field was unrightfully considered less glorious than the combat field; that the hospital administrators were all corrupt and used funds for personal use rather than to train more medics; "And look where we are now! Half of the medical force wiped out instantly by Pein and the rest of them shivering in their boots! For shame! Our Hokage is the best medic in the world and half of the team can't even remove an appendix without throwing up!" Even though Sakura was a smidgen too passionate for Miho's taste, she could understand why the younger kunoichi was so incensed. Two months of working amidst Konoha's doctors had been more than enough time for Miho to conclude that Konoha only had three adept physicians: Tsunade, Shizune, and Sakura.

For shame, indeed. Sakura was only fifteen.

The lamentable amount of quality healthcare in Konoha was the least of Tsunade's concerns at the moment, though, especially when she and the other four Kages were engaged in the middle of direct combat. The fighting had only begun last week, but Miho had seen more blood in that time than she ever had. Tsunade had anticipated this, which was why she had appointed Miho as one of the leading medics alongside Sakura.

"Are you sure?" Miho had said uncertainly. "Surely your council is against this…"

"I don't give a rat's ass for what the council wants right now," Tsunade had snapped. "I need a medical force I can actually rely on, and God knows that the hospital system is completely defunct. If it'll make the council feel better, I'll station you with Sakura at all times to make sure you don't do anything funny, but in reality, I want you two to protect each other. Shizune will be working between the medical unit and the strategy analysis team, so she won't be there the entire time. I'll be in the middle of the fighting but will my best to minimize damage as well. If things become drastic, I'll use Katsuyuu."

"Careful," she'd warned. "You've only recently accumulated enough chakra to be considered healthy—don't waste it."

"If push comes to shove, I won't have a choice."

Wordlessly, Miho had placed two vials of blood in front Tsunade. It was clearly a gift Tsunade had not been expecting.

"To use at your discretion," Miho had said. "Consider it thanks for everything you have done for me so far. I won't do anything to make your life more difficult than it is already."

"Miho, you are pregnant—you don't have the capacity to give this much life force up."

"If you die," she'd said calmly, "then the chances of me surviving are infinitely lower. And if you die, no one will tell Konoha the truth after the war. I need you alive to uphold our agreement. It's an investment."

Tsunade had accepted graciously, leaving Miho to test her boundaries with her new partner. She shouldn't have been worried. Now that all of Team Kakashi knew the truth, Sakura was infinitely warmer to Miho than she'd ever been. She was better company than Miho could have hoped for. After saving each other's lives a few times, it did not take long for them to rely on each other. Once, when Miho was elbow-deep in a patient's gut for an emergency surgery, a resurrected shinobi from the Land of Stone showed up at their tent. Even though Miho could not sense dead people, she barely batted an eyelash at the intrusion. Sakura took him out in one blow. Another time, when Sakura was sleeping, a deserter from the Land of Mist snuck into their tent for supplies. Perhaps he had been only expecting Sakura asleep, for he looked incredibly shocked to find Miho there. She brought a finger to her lips and slit his throat without waking Sakura up all the while.

"Here, Miho, I'll get the rest," said Sakura as she took Miho's clipboard from her. "You should sit down, being the pregnant lady and all."

"I'm finished," sighed Miho as she sat down on a rickety little stool. Her hand methodically rubbed the small bulge at her stomach. "We're really running out of basic supplies: disinfectant, syringes, chakra replenishers. I'll send a crow later tonight…I don't even want to look at the blood bank…"

"The nurses said they've been crowded to carrying capacity too," said Sakura, frustrated. "I might have to make nightly rounds—"

"Don't," said Miho wearily. "You're going to collapse."

"But there's too many patients who are in critical condition—"

"Then think about who's more important right now," said Miho sharply. "Them, or you. You are one of the best medics in this camp; you can get the other doctors to deal with the terminal patients. If we lose you to simply chakra depletion, we'll lose countless others. You have to pick and choose your battles, Sakura."

Sakura looked conflicted. Miho let out another breath.

"I know it's hard to hear," she said, "but you can't save them all, Sakura. We're doctors, not gods. We need to care about ourselves too."

Kisame had been right about that. Doctors were not gods—they were just the closest to playing them.

The news of Kisame's death by suicide had been hard to take, for some reason. She had wormed the details out of Kakashi and they had only bolstered what she thought of Kisame already: that he was a more honorable shinobi than half of Konoha's fighting force. She could not help but be depressed about it, though there was no one else to share her sentiment.

"I understand," Sakura consented. "I'll rest."

"Good girl," murmured Miho.

The night was wearing on and Miho was incredibly fatigued. She and Sakura had amputated more limbs in the last twenty-four hours than they would have liked. Occasionally, Pakkun would appear with updates from Kakashi, but they had heard nothing for several hours now. Miho had urged Kakashi to check in with them as often as he could, but she knew better than to think that he would obey. Kakashi was the highest-ranking Konoha official below the Hokage and was at the front of the fighting. She only hoped that he was not using his chakra recklessly.

"Miho, are you feeling okay?" Sakura ventured to ask. "You shouldn't overdo it…"

"I'm fine," said Miho with a casual wave of her hand. "If I wasn't in perpetual discomfort, I would be letting the councilors down." Miho had the slightest suspicion that they had only agreed to her position because there was a high chance of her getting killed.

Sakura looked uncomfortable at this suggestion.

"They're just…worried," she offered halfheartedly.

"It's fine," said Miho airily. "I don't intend to die quite yet."

The methodical beating in her stomach had become a comfort to her these last few months. As long as Miho focused on it and did not let her mind wander, she could attain the barest sense of peace, and it would lull her to sleep. Other times, if she thought about Itachi, she wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how tired she was.

"Sakura?" she said suddenly.

"What?" the younger girl said, sitting straight up in alarm. "Is something wrong? Are you hurting?"

"No, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Sakura relaxed visibly and leaned back in her chair. "What is it?"

"I wanted to ask you a…personal question. You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Sakura nodded, indicating for Miho to continue. "When Sasuke left this village, did you ever want to go with him? Follow him? Not bring him back—just be with him?"

Sakura stared at her. Miho could tell from her chakra that she was wary and hesitant; this was not a topic she was not supposed to breach. Right when Miho was about to tell her that she didn't have to answer, though, Sakura shook her head.

"I thought about it," she admitted. "There were times when I wanted to chase after him myself…but why would I? I have my family here. I still have Naruto and Kakashi-sensei. I became the Hokage's apprentice. I love Sasuke and I want him to come back, but when he left three years ago, he did it because he had a goal. No matter how much I disapproved of that goal, I knew he wanted to get stronger. If I chased after him, what would that say about me? So I made myself a promise." Sakura looked at Miho fiercely, her eyes bright and resolved. "I promised myself that I would never feel like my life was ending because of one person. I promised myself that I would grow stronger and be able to fight by myself so that I would never need anyone else's protection. And I promised myself that I would do everything I could to bring Sasuke back, but if…if at the end of the day he can't, then…then I made the right choice not to leave with him."

Sakura's voice had grown smaller at the end of her sentence, but Miho knew she was telling the truth.

She smiled demurely. "Good girl."

Sakura looked embarrassed suddenly.

"I-I didn't mean anything offensive, I swear," she stammered. "I know you and I-Itachi-san had a more significant bond than Sasuke and I ever did—"

"Don't say that," said Miho. "We were children, just like you and Sasuke. You were just smarter than I was."

Guiltily, Sakura opened her mouth to say something else but Miho stopped her.

"Kakashi's back," she said, standing up.

Sakura's expression changed immediately and she stood up as well.

"Is he injured?" she demanded.

"Not severely," responded Miho after a pause. "His chakra seems fine…we should patch him up just in case though."

Kakashi entered the tent minutes later, covered in rain, grime, and blood. He looked tired but alert, though something about his expression seemed off.

"Kakashi-sensei!" Sakura greeted as she handed him a bottle of water.

"Are you okay?" Miho asked. "Sit down—"

"Later," said Kakashi. "I don't have much time. I brought someone here to see you."

"If it's a patient, you could've just called us to meet you—"

"You know I wouldn't let you do that," he said severely. "Sakura, come outside with me."

"Eh?" Sakura looked bewildered. "Why—"

"You can treat me outside." Kakashi lifted up the tent flap behind him, where a cloaked figure stood, drenched in the rain. "Come in."

Miho felt an icy chill sweep through her. She had not sensed the visitor at all.

She knew the moment the stranger entered the tent, the moment her heart seemed to stop beating. She could not sense those resurrected by the Edo-Tensei. She did not need him to pull back his hood, did not need to see his full face, pale but with the deep-set wrinkles, did not need to see the three tomoe set against brilliant crimson to know who it was.

But she saw, she felt, and she knew.

Uchiha Itachi had returned from the dead.

* * *

_free talk:_

it's so wonderful bringing him back. it's only been two chapters but itachi has been sorely missed. kishimoto bringing itachi back via edo-tensei was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. considering that miho and itachi will be having a conversation transcending the boundaries of life and death, i will be working very hard on the next chapter's dialogue.

thank you to all those who reviewed! i'm glad none of you thought that the pregnancy was ridiculous...

if you're interested, i'll be posting an LJ entry on miho's interactions with the konoha nin. i personally think kishimoto writes strong female leads very poorly, so i made some changes accordingly.

thanks again to wingedmercury for her help. as we near closer to the end of this fic, i'd love to hear from you. please leave a review!

xoxo,  
m.n


	29. The Will of Fire

_sorry for the delay. thank you to wingedmercury for beta-ing. if you're interested, longer free talk on my LJ. the next chapter will be the last. thank you for supporting me all this time. please leave your thoughts!_

_xoxo,  
m.n_

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Will of Fire**

Every muscle in Kakashi's body ached. He had not felt like this since last year, when Tsunade had gotten drunk one fine morning and ordered him to spar with her. Kakashi had spent nearly three hours dodging the Godaime's attacks, falling trees and all, until she'd finally collapsed, snoring.

The forests surrounding their camp were soaking in the blood of the fallen. Kakashi had always found trees to be calming and comforting, but when they were decorated with the lives of his companions, they were uncanny and unfamiliar. As clouds began to accumulate above them, Kakashi waved to Genma nearby, who bounded up to him immediately.

"Looks like it's going to storm again," said Kakashi. "I need you take all those who are critically wounded and retreat to the medic camp. How many have we lost?"

"More than half of the team, taichou. Many jounin as well."

Kakashi grimaced. In death, ranks did not matter. He was truthfully surprised that he was not injured as badly as he expected; between the Seven Ninja of the Mist and countless others resurrected beings who could not feel pain, Kakashi was faring quite well indeed.

He glanced down around him, where both the bodies of the fallen nin and the sham bodies of the Edo-Tensei were scattered and interspersed. The Edo-Tensei was a terrible jutsu. The dead were supposed to stay dead. People were not supposed to be given second chances…though his brief conversation with Haku and Zabuza had him thinking otherwise.

"Any other news?" Kakashi asked.

"The Kages have engaged in combat with their predecessors," said the jounin nervously. "So far, the previous Kazekage has at least been sighted."

Kakashi uttered a low curse. The prospects of this war were growing blacker by the second. Who would he have to fight next? Minato, his father, or heavens forbid, Rin or Obito?

_No_, thought Kakashi, blinking the rain out of his eyes. Rin had been only a child when she'd died. The same went for Obito. There was no merit in bringing back dead children who could not contribute much power to this war.

Sadly enough, this realization brought him some relief.

Pakkun suddenly appeared beside Kakashi's right foot, his presence marked by a sound alarmingly close to a sneeze.

"Bless you," said Kakashi. "News from the medical camp?"

"Crowded, and with low supplies," was the unsurprising answer. "Sakura and Miho are at least in decent shape. Tired, but not injured."

"Good. Best keep it that way." Kakashi turned to Genma. "We'll march our platoon to join the Kages. I want the jounin evenly distributed amidst all ranks, with sensors at the front."

"The sensors are dead, sir," he answered gravely.

"I thought we had deployed three sensors with guards. Are all three…?"

"Yes, taichou. Some of their guards deserted them, leaving them under-protected."

Kakashi did not even blink at the news of this treason.

"Very well. I'll lead the vanguard."

"Taichou, that's not—"

"If there were another option, I would suggest otherwise, but it seems choices are scarce as of late."

"There is another option, sir. Chiaki Miho's skills as a sensor are widely known."

"She is better known as a medic, and I need her and Sakura to support each other."

Truthfully, Miho was best known as the widow of Konoha's most fearsome mass murderer, but with her recent pardon and Konoha's impending doom, no one brought up this rumor.

"But—"

"No," was Kakashi's final answer. Not many knew that Miho was pregnant, but Kakashi had no intention of sending her to a higher-risk environment than she was in already.

Genma did not continue to argue. "What about the Kusagakure kunoichi, who was part of Uchiha Sasuke's team? Orochimaru's sensor?"

Kakashi contemplated the idea for a while, but something about the kunoichi seemed…unstable. Her allegiance was not as complicated as Miho's; Kakashi did not need an interrogation to see that Karin still followed Sasuke.

"No," he said after some thought. "I don't trust her, and it's pointless—most of our enemies are dead, which makes sensors effectively useless. I'll lead."

"Please allow me," Genma said firmly. "You have led us far enough—our enemy will anticipate you being in the front. If we split our parties and you attack from behind, we may have a better chance."

Not necessarily true, given that the enemy most likely knew everything that they were planning, but Kakashi understood. He was in need of rest and could fade from the front line, at least for the time being.

"Very well," he conceded. "I'll keep Pakkun with me—take the rest of my team to the front." Genma nodded and disappeared from sight to carry out Kakashi's orders.

"From the looks of it, I think Miho would relish the chance to be out in the field," said Pakkun. "I arrived in the middle of some patient trying to bite her ear off when she was amputating his arm. They didn't have enough anesthesia."

Kakashi heaved a sigh, lingering at the very end of the exodus as they moved deeper into the forest. The rain was pouring steadily now, and soon the mortally wounded would die from the dropping temperatures and increasing infections. He was tired and trying not to be pessimistic. Naruto and Killer Bee had set out hours ago to stop the person controlling the Edo-Tensei, but Kakashi had not heard anything from them since.

Another hour and then he would have to seek out the jutsu-caster himself. It was either that, or they would all die once they encountered the previous Kages.

"Kakashi," said Pakkun abruptly.

Kakashi stopped immediately. He had picked up on the scent as well—something dead moving at a quick pace nearby.

"Nine o'clock," said the dog.

The assailant was growing closer but did not seem to be heading for the team. Nonetheless, Kakashi would have to stop him.

"Pakkun, stay with the group. I'll take care of it."

"Be careful, Kakashi."

Kakashi split from the rest of them and, following his nose, headed toward the incoming attacker. It could be anyone, and chances were that fighting individually was not the wisest course of action. Regardless, he needed his team to regroup with the bulk of the fighting force where the Kages were, and if this intruder was someone who could overpower Kakashi one-on-one, then his entire team was lost.

It was almost difficult to match the speed of his target, and the longer Kakashi tracked, the further away from his platoon he grew. The stranger was clearly not aiming to attack them, but instead seemed to know that Kakashi was following him and was determined to throw him off. Curious but wary, Kakashi sacrificed the necessary chakra for a Kage Bunshin, and the two of them split to corner the target. His target dodged Kakashi's Bunshin, heading for the left, but Kakashi knew these forests well. Earlier, he had planted a trigger-based Chidori net in a small clearing that happened to be several meters in front of his target; the series of traps had been meant to catch the user of the Edo-Tensei if he treaded closer to Konoha. Now, it would finally be useful.

The surge of electrical chakra confirmed Kakashi's suspicions, and before the target could turn to run, Kakashi arrived right behind him, exactly in the small clearing that he had anticipated. His Bunshin joined him.

The stranger was clad in black and hooded. He made no movement to attack, though the clear tension in his body indicated that he wished to run at the first opportunity.

"Who are you?" said Kakashi coldly. "Show yourself."

Surprisingly enough, at the sound of Kakashi's voice, the stranger turned around and let his hood fall. The crimson of the Sharingan shone as bright as fire amidst the night and brewing storm.

"It's been a long time, Kakashi-san," said Uchiha Itachi.

He was gaunt, pale, and eerie, just like all of the other resurrected beings. Kakashi was taken aback to see him, but years of training had stamped any expression of shock out of Kakashi's face.

"Itachi," greeted Kakashi warily.

"You do not need to be concerned," Itachi said. "I am no longer being controlled by the Edo-Tensei."

"How did you—"

"The details are not important, as the method could only work for me. Now that I've gained control over my body, I intend to find and stop the source of the Edo-Tensei."

Itachi spoke briskly, with the tone of a man given his duty and wanted nothing better than to complete it. Kakashi knew the tone well; it was the one he used with the Hokage when he received and confirmed top-secret missions. Now, though, the tone irked him slightly. He had a thousand questions for Itachi, but truthfully expected the same in return.

"Has Naruto updated you on…your current state of affairs?" asked Kakashi.

Itachi's lips briefly curled up in a smirk. "My current state of affairs is death, Kakashi-san. What I am considered by the living is not important. Naruto-kun has alerted me that you and some choice others know the truth behind the Uchiha massacre…but if it had been my choice, you would be fighting me right now, not merely chatting."

Itachi's sense of responsibility for his village was truly terrifying. Kakashi did not doubt that Itachi was speaking the truth; yet, there was a very obvious name being omitted from the conversation.

"Did Naruto tell you about Miho?" said Kakashi bluntly.

Finally, there was a brief flicker of something other than duty in Itachi's eyes.

"We did not have that opportunity," Itachi answered.

_Did you even ask_? Kakashi wanted to demand. Now, even, with the subject breached and the name spoken, Itachi seemed nothing less than unwilling to discuss it.

"Is she…dead?" asked Itachi carefully, as if there were spies tucked away in their surroundings ready to report that Itachi had made the inquiry.

"No," said Kakashi. "She's alive."

Oddly enough, Itachi did not even seem relieved. If anything, he looked frustrated.

"I see. And she knows this truth as well, now. The answers she has always wanted." There was a tinge of resentment in his voice.

"Yes," was all Kakashi said, finding Itachi's reaction more and more bizarre by the passing second.

"I see," said Itachi again.

A pause ensued, the gap in dialogue filled by a flash of lightning that cast strange shadows across Itachi's face. A deafening clap of thunder followed several seconds later.

Kakashi voiced a terrible thought aloud. "Surely you didn't want her to be dead?"

Itachi's utter lack of a reply was enough for Kakashi to know that he had guessed correctly.

"You cannot be serious," said Kakashi incredulously. "If you wanted her dead, why did you leave me a message to take care of her?"

"It was merely a precaution," he replied curtly. "Truthfully, I thought that even if Kisame-san did not end up killing Miho, she would find a way to end her life."

"And you wanted her to?"

"What I wanted never really seemed to apply to Miho," said Itachi dryly. "She was always rather headstrong."

"You know Miho has only done everything you ever wanted," said Kakashi coldly.

Itachi's eyes flickered, as if coming to understand that Kakashi knew more about Miho and Itachi's relationship than he had anticipated. His eyes closed briefly.

"Forgive me," he said. "You're right. Oftentimes, I do not give Miho enough credit. I am glad to hear that she is alive. If you would continue to watch over her…I would be grateful."

He turned to leave, but Kakashi stopped him.

"Is that it?" he demanded.

"Is that what?" said Itachi, bored. "What do you want me to do, Kakashi-san?"

"You don't want to see her?"

"I never said that." For the first time, Itachi almost sounded edgy. "But tell me what I can do if I see her—it does not change the fact that I am dead, and that I did not live for her. I know Miho better than you do, Kakashi-san. Right now, Miho loathes me with every fiber of her being, and for good reason. I am not saying she does not care, nor am I saying she does not love. Above anything, though, she resents me because I put Sasuke's well being over hers and my own."

_She resents you for more than that_, thought Kakashi, but he did not voice his opinion aloud.

"Appearing before her now would only remind her of the possibilities that we lost," said Itachi, "possibilities that both of us have considered endlessly, but it would not present any solutions. In death, I cannot give her what she wants. Seeing her would only cause raw wounds to fester. I have no desire to give her false hope and then rip it away from her. I've done that too many times already."

Kakashi knew Itachi was right. Time was ticking, and the sight of Itachi would only burden Miho. There was nothing to be gained if Itachi knew that he had left behind a child; it was not like he could help Miho in any way. Those who were dead should stay dead.

But the more Itachi maintained that he did not want to see her, the more insistent Kakashi became. Surely Miho deserved _something_ else, some kind of closure, the slightest bit of conversation. Kakashi had just spent the last week fighting those who he thought had long been buried. Yet, seeing Haku finally learn that Zabuza had truly cared for him had changed Kakashi's adamancy for those who had died before to stay dead. The mere minutes of life after death were minutes of countless possibilities, to finally say the words that being alive had prevented.

"You need to see her," said Kakashi in a steely tone.

"…You were the last person I thought would encourage me to do so," Itachi replied coolly. "I thought you would understand my intentions."

"I do," Kakashi admitted. "But I have spent the last week fighting the dead, and I have learned that the dead have many things to say to the living."

"The living will not be living for long if I don't stop the Edo-Tensei."

"I know," said Kakashi impatiently, "but I insist."

"And I refuse."

"It's an order then," Kakashi nearly snapped. "Take it as an order from your superior, since following orders seems to be the only thing you're capable of doing."

Itachi's eyes flashed. Kakashi knew he had angered him finally, but it did not matter—anything to get him to Miho. Miho needed this.

"You owe Miho this," said Kakashi firmly. "We may not come out of this war alive, and some things are only worth it when you're alive. She needs to see you. There are things you must say."

"Things I must say, or things you want me to say?" Had Itachi always been this infuriating? Kakashi had always remembered him to be a quiet if not too-polite child. This Itachi was stubborn and angry; briefly, Kakashi could see his brash, younger self in Itachi, and he knew that Itachi had died too soon.

"Do you want me to tell her that I made a mistake?" Itachi said scathingly. "That I should have chosen her instead? If so, you don't understand Miho or me. Miho knows why I made my decision and even if she hates me for it, she knows it's a testament to my true character. I can't lie to her now—it would be empty and above all, useless."

"I don't want you to lie," Kakashi retorted. "You don't have to say a single word if you don't want to. You just have to see her first."

"And then what?"

"Apologize," he snapped.

"Apologize?" repeated Itachi almost mockingly. "That's what Miho hates the most. Apologies without any resolve or alternate solutions—she hates it when the only things I can give her are empty words like a consolation prize. I cannot face her, Kakashi-san. The only useful thing I can do for her is also for my little brother—keeping them alive."

_Sasuke doesn't even deserve everything you do for him,_ thought Kakashi bitterly. But who was he to judge? Love was irrational, and the more Kakashi spoke with Itachi, the more he thought that Miho's love had been misplaced as well. Nothing was clearer than Itachi's utter failure to care. Itachi loved Sasuke and Konoha with the entirety of his heart, mind, and duty. He loved Miho like an afterthought, a mistake he had come to terms with.

The sky was growing gradually darker, and along with it, Kakashi's patience. He was soaked to the bone and cold, and now, the rain was beginning to fall in sprinkles again. He did not have time to argue with a stubborn subordinate, dead though he was. And even though Kakashi knew he should let Itachi stop the Edo-Tensei, there were certain sacrifices he had to make.

"She's carrying your child," Kakashi finally said.

The expression on Itachi's face as he digested the sentence bordered on hilarious. It shifted from shock to suspicion and then to a dawning realization of its implications. Kakashi almost followed the statement with a "Congratulations," given that so few shinobi ever lived to father children, but decided that it was rubbing a bit too much salt on the wound.

"…If this is a joke, Kakashi-san, it is in poor taste," said Itachi, deadpan.

"Fortunately, it's not," the older jounin replied dryly. "You should be grateful. It's the only reason Miho's still alive."

Itachi's train of thought was easy to read. The pregnancy was the only reason Miho could bear to remain alive, and Itachi knew that it was true.

"How…" Itachi's voice came out surprisingly levelly. "How many months?"

"Almost three," answered Kakashi. "I've been trying to keep her out of the line of fire so she can take care of herself, but the first three months are always more dangerous."

Itachi nodded numbly, processing this information.

"There is not much time, Itachi," said the Copy Nin. "We are in the middle of a war…but I believe that seeing Miho, if only briefly, is necessary. Will you go?"

"…Yes. Lead the way."

Kakashi should have told Itachi this news to begin with, just to save time, but he did not know if it was his information to divulge. Itachi followed Kakashi's lead faithfully in silence as he thought, most likely of what to say upon seeing his lover. Kakashi did not disturb him with additional conversation—Itachi's fear was nearly tangible and understandable. Miho was quite unpredictable.

Truthfully, he was not completely certain how Miho would react to Itachi. Was this a mistake? Miho had been slowly but surely recovering these last few weeks; would seeing Itachi now cause her to hate Konoha even more? Kakashi had forced Itachi's hand because he thought Miho needed the consolation, that this was an opportunity too improbable to pass up. Now though, he could see Miho reacting poorly to the unanticipated visit.

Regardless, the damage was done. Within the hour, the two men arrived at the medical camp. Itachi pulled his hood over his head to avoid any onlookers. The overwhelming smell of rust, sweat, and rotting bodies indicated that the camp was in worse shape than Kakashi had expected. Several hours had passed since Pakkun's last check-in, but Kakashi could sense Sakura's chakra in the largest tent. He could never sense Miho, but he would have been alerted if something had happened to her.

"Kakashi-san," said Itachi suddenly. He had been silent the entire journey, deep in thought.

"Mm?"

"Thank you," he said.

"…You're…welcome?" said Kakashi awkwardly.

"I mean…for bringing me here. I have been thinking. I know I owe this to Miho…child or not. So even if you are lying about the child—"

"Itachi-san, you know I am not."

"Ah. Yes. I understand."

Itachi was clearly struggling with how to take the news of his unborn child. For a man who had prepared for every possible situation regarding Sasuke, this was an oversight that Kakashi found unprofessional. Again, Itachi had not given Miho as much thought as he should have.

Kakashi let out a breath. "Itachi-san, I do not know if bringing you here was the right thing for Miho. You were correct in that this may set her back. But regardless…please take this opportunity to give her some form of closure. She has suffered enough."

"I understand."

Kakashi entered the tent first. Miho and Sakura did not look surprised to see him, and instead promptly offered him refreshment and immediate treatment. He brushed off their concerns.

"Later," he said. He needed to join Naruto and Killer Bee as soon as he could. "I don't have much time. I brought someone here to see you."

Miho looked perturbed and offered to meet Kakashi in the middle of the battleground. _Hell, no_ was Kakashi's amateur response, but he reprimanded her instead for thinking that he could afford to put her in such danger. She needed to care for herself more—sometimes, Kakashi seemed to think that she was taking her pregnancy somewhat haphazardly.

He then lifted the tent flap behind him. Itachi entered, any hesitation and qualms masked from his expression as his hood fell to his shoulders. He was drenched, but he merely blinked the water out of his scarlet eyes as he looked at Miho and nowhere else. Sakura gasped audibly at the sight of him and then instantly covered her mouth with her palm, as if this would hide her astonishment, but it did not matter. Kakashi was not watching her.

The look on Miho's face was hard to describe. There was shock, certainly, but something else: hesitation, anger, immense pain, but more than anything, a dreadful fear and longing. Her body language spoke for itself; she was tense, gripping tightly around her elbows, as if she were afraid to reach out in front of her for her heart's greatest desire, only to touch thin air. Itachi, on the other hand, was impassive. His eyes flickered to her stomach, then back up to her face, but the gleam in Itachi's eyes spoke volumes, and Kakashi realized that he had thought too little of Itachi. At the sight of Miho, everything about Itachi radiated an intense desire for their circumstances to be different. There were no words and no movement to rush toward each other, but it was enough for Kakashi to conclude that he had not made a mistake.

He beckoned for Sakura to follow him out of the tent so they could leave Itachi and Miho alone. His student obeyed, and when they were several feet away and back in the rain, he spoke.

"Sorry to kick you out like that," he said cheerily, "but for obvious reasons…Sakura?"

The pink-haired medic had tears rolling down her face. Any stranger would have thought that they were raindrops, but Kakashi knew his student better than that. She looked angry and agonized at the same time, but she wiped her face hastily.

"Sorry," she blurted out. "I don't know why…I just…I just feel so bad."

"For…?"

"Well, I mean, don't you?!" she insisted. "You probably know them better than I do, but these last few days, just talking with Miho…I…" She struggled to find the right words. "She's just so…sad. And don't tell me all shinobi have sad stories, I know that! But it's just…I guess it's because sometimes I think that I could easily be her…and that makes me sad."

Sakura now seemed embarrassed in addition to everything else she was feeling. Kakashi gave a small smile and patted her on the head.

"You are a terribly kind person, Sakura."

Sakura blushed. "I'm not…I'm really not."

"No, you are. But you could never have ended up in the same position as Miho. You are too different…and much stronger."

Sakura was hesitant to accept this, but Kakashi knew that she agreed to some level.

"More importantly," said Kakashi, pausing slightly before he continued, "Sasuke is nothing like Itachi…and if you had followed Miho's footsteps, you would be dead, not suffering."

Sakura bit her lower lip, making her look like she was once again fighting back tears. Kakashi regretted his words. He loved Sasuke like a son or younger brother—out of the original Team Seven, Kakashi had found Sasuke to reflect his younger self the most. Kakashi had trained him, tried to sway him from the path of revenge, but it had been fruitless. Even now, he wished for Sasuke to return, fighting on the right side, but his former student's obvious killing intent in their last meeting had Kakashi thinking that perhaps he was beyond redemption. Clearly, Sakura was struggling to come to this conclusion.

"How did you find him?" inquired Sakura, clearly trying to avoid the topic of Sasuke. She gestured for them to stop so that she could tend to Kakashi's light wounds. "Itachi-san, I mean? And how did he break free from the Edo-Tensei's control anyway?"

"He was unclear as to how that happened…I found him when he was passing by my squad."

"Heading here? Was he looking for Miho?"

"No, he was looking for the Edo-Tensei user."

"Why?" she said, bewildered. "I mean, I know why, but surely he wanted to find her…" Her voice trailed off when she looked up at Kakashi, who merely shook his head.

"Why?!" Sakura said again, this time fiercely. "This is an opportunity beyond a lifetime! Talking to someone after you're dead—"

"Sakura, you are aware that the Godaime also had someone who passed away, don't you? Someone that she loved?"

Sakura looked stricken. "Y-yes, but—"

"Do you see either her or her lover sacrificing everything to meet each other?"

His student was stumped. "No, but…"

"They know their duties, Sakura. As did Itachi. That was why he did not want to meet Miho."

"Then why did you bring him here?" she demanded. "If you believed that his duty was more important, why make him come?"

Kakashi did not answer immediately.

"…I agree with you," he said slowly, "in that whenever I think of Miho and Itachi…I think the two of them are just, to use your word, sad. But I think don't think they're 'sad' because their love ended tragically—there are too many cases of bonds torn apart too early." He knew from personal experience. "The reason why Miho and Itachi are different is that…they have no will. Tsunade-sama and Dan-sama were united by their will to protect this village: the Will of Fire, we call it. But in reality, the Will of Fire is merely the will to live. Not just the desire to live—_the will_ to live. They are two very different things."

"I don't understand…the will and desire are the same thing. If you wish to live then you have the will to live."

"For civilians, yes. For shinobi…not necessarily. And that is why Itachi and Miho are so tragic. Itachi wants to live—that much is obvious. You could tell the moment he saw Miho. He wants nothing more than to be alive, to be fighting for his village, and quite honestly, to be with Miho. But he has no will—he killed his own will when he received orders to kill his family. The will of Konoha precedes his own. It is what makes him such an excellent shinobi."

Miho knew. It was why she hated Konoha, and on some base level, Kakashi understood. But it wasn't just Konoha she should have hated. It was the entire shinobi system, all of systematic hierarchy and humanity that had created the world to be the way it was.

"Miho is quite the opposite," Kakashi continued. "Even when Itachi was alive, she had no desire to live on her own. All her wishes revolved around Itachi, and when Itachi died, so did she. But the only reason she is alive right now is because she has a will to live for her child, not for herself. If she had a choice, she would be resting in the grave already. They are two entirely different people, Sakura. They truly understand each other, but their fundamental differences are what make them…so sad."

Sakura silently healed the rest of Kakashi's cuts and bruises as she thought. It was nearing midnight, perhaps, or later. Kakashi needed to return to the battlefield; he would have to join Naruto and Killer Bee. He trusted Itachi to take care of the Edo-Tensei user, since Itachi was the only one who seemed to have an inkling of where the enemy was, but Madara was still pursuing Naruto.

"So you brought him back then?" said Sakura finally. "Because they needed to…reconcile these differences?"

Kakashi gave a wry chuckle. "You do not know Miho if you think she could reconcile anything. No, I brought him back because they needed a chance. Knowing someone too well sometimes can cripple a relationship. You start assuming you know everything that the other person is thinking, making conversation useless. But people change all the time, and what can change a man more than death? Some things need to be spoken aloud and heard. I brought Itachi back because he needed an opportunity to be honest, and given that this is his last chance…I do not think he will waste it."

Sakura stood up straight, her green eyes bright.

"Okay, that should do it. Are you going to head back now?"

Kakashi stretched his limbs, feeling refreshed.

"Mm. I don't want Itachi lingering too long. Tell him he needs to set out."

"Can't we give them a few more minutes?"

He wanted to. If he could have, he would let Itachi and Miho have all the time they needed as this war raged on. But duty called.

_No_, he was about to say. _Tell Itachi he needs to leave._

The words seemed to have difficulty leaving his tongue. Sakura smiled.

"Sensei?"

"Mm?"

"I'll tell him when I get back. Don't worry about us. Take care of yourself."

"Mm," said Kakashi, relieved. "Watch over yourself and Miho. You two may be called to the battlefield soon—I'll try to stave off the order as long as possible, but it won't be long now. Make sure Miho stays behind if she can."

"Don't worry. Pregnant ladies get priority. I got it."

"I'm glad you're so smart, Sakura."

She giggled like a little girl, and it made Kakashi feel guilty knowing that such a small compliment could make her happy. When compared to how he treated Naruto and Sasuke, he had neglected Sakura a good deal. Hearing Sakura laugh only reminded Kakashi of how innocently young she was.

_Too young to be fighting in a war_, he thought wearily.

"I'll be off, Sakura. Be careful."

"You too."

Kakashi was right about to disappear into the trees when Sakura called after him.

"Sensei?"

"Mm?"

"You know…you're a terribly kind person too." She giggled again, but it almost sounded sad. "Don't die. Will of Fire, and all. "

Kakashi smiled. "I'll do my best."

* * *

How long had it been? Three minutes, five minutes, ten?

_Say something_, she thought desperately. _Anything. Anything is better than this silence. _

Itachi looked at her, expressionless. Two meters separated them. He looked cold, drenched, and impassive. _He was more handsome when he was alive_, thought Miho bizarrely. _He looks pasty now. _

But she devoured the sight of him. God, she missed him. Days, weeks, months. She had thought about him every day without fail, yet now, when he stood in front of her, she missed him even more.

She did not understand. She was supposed to be angry. She was sharp-tongued when she was angry. How many times had she gone over this speech in her head? She had wished so many times that Itachi would be there to listen to her. Now that he actually was, though, all words failed her. No matter how she tried, she did not feel anger. Her tongue felt like a lump of stone in her mouth.

Perhaps words were not necessary. The times she and Itachi were on the same wavelength were few and far in between. When they happened, though, words were wasted effort. They knew what the other was thinking. Now, she stared at him, and even though his face showed nothing, she could read his eyes. _I'm sorry_, they said. _I did not want to leave you, but I had to._

What else was there to say? Anything she wanted to hear from him was a lie. He could not stay with her, no matter what. And she knew The Truth now. She did not need an explanation. She did not need him to tell her that she never had a chance to begin with. Itachi knew, too. It was probably why he refused to say anything. She wondered how much Kakashi had prepared him. Itachi's eyes kept flickering down to her stomach—he had to know. She could see it somewhere beneath all his regrets—a numb disbelief as to how exactly she was pregnant.

She did not know what else she could do or say. Throw her arms around him, but that would mean she forgave him. Blame him for everything, but why would she spend precious time arguing with him? So she said nothing, and instead merely looked at the sight of Itachi and his bright red eyes because she would never have the chance to do so again.

Her legs had gone numb. She did not know how long they had been standing there, just staring, but all of a sudden, all the energy disappeared from her body and her legs seemed to turn into liquid. She took a step back, trying to balance herself, but failed. Her heartbeat did not even elevate as she fell—Itachi bridged their gap in the blink of an eye and caught her effortlessly before she tumbled backward. One arm was around her waist, while his other hand grasped her wrist.

His touch was wet, vice-like, icy and unbearably dead. Miho knew the touch of corpses, the ones she dragged out of the morgue for autopsies. She shuddered and instinctively pulled her hand out of his, as if Death were an illness that could contaminate her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and suppressed her…what was it? Fear? Repulsion? He was a walking corpse. She had every right to be disgusted.

Itachi noticed and made a movement to let go of her.

_What the hell am I doing_?

She grabbed his arm and held fast, her nails digging into his cold flesh. His expression did not change—he felt no pain, but Miho did not let go. This was the last time—the only time—that she could touch him, dead or not. She wanted him, the feeling of his warmth and gentleness, present in the barest brush of skin and kiss. But even though she could not have him the way she remembered him to be, an Itachi who was a walking zombie was better than an unmoving corpse, because Miho could at least see him now, touch him, speak with him once her tongue decided to function, and she would not be so excruciatingly alone.

He knew everything, from her base repulsion to her overwhelming desperation. Itachi brought a hand to Miho's cheek, hesitating before he brushed aside a tear. His touch, cold, cold, cold, but still so gentle.

"I miss you," she whispered, her voice coming out in a dry crack.

Itachi gave her a small smile, his gaze soft and penitent. She felt like such a child. The words came out weakly and wanting—never had she uttered these words aloud, even though they were obvious. Everyone missed the dead, but she yearned for Itachi as if he were a part of her body that had been ripped out.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry, Miho. I didn't want to leave you like this."

She blinked, and two fat drops rolled down her cheeks. "But you did."

"Not like this," he said quietly. "Not with a child."

"Would…"

_Would it have made a difference_? The question would not leave her mouth—she was too afraid of the answer, and truthfully, what difference would it make now? She changed her mind.

"You expected me to be dead, didn't you?" she asked. Her tone was not accusatory.

Itachi nodded. "A part of me hoped you were. I did not…I did not want to leave you alone."

_But you did._

Itachi's hand wound its way in her hair and he pulled her to him. His other arm curled around her waist. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. His chin rested on top of her head. Each body part fit—_they _fit so easily, so perfectly. Everything was so familiar, and she could almost imagine that everything had been a nightmare—she was back in Kusagakure, in that cabin, in front of a roaring fire as the snow piled on outside, and Itachi held her, just like this, delicately and safely like she was the most important thing in his life. She would smile and hold him back, and the two of them would stay like that for so long, standing still, just listening to crackling of the fire and their heartbeats thumping against each other's skin.

But there was no fire, just the pattering of the rain. There was no warmth, just the cold touch of his skin that enveloped her and begged to take her. There were no heartbeats. Just hers, and hers alone, and they were all reminders of the impossible chasm between them. She could not hold him back. She could not accept.

"I miss you," she said again, her voice shaking violently. "Itachi…I miss you so much. I want so badly…to go back. It doesn't even have to be for long. A week. A day. One hour. Just me and you, just…just somewhere I'm not…I'm not feeling like this. Somewhere I'm not so alone."

His embrace around her tightened, but it did not stop tears from streaming down her face.

"I'm not strong enough to do this," she whispered. "I miss you. I need you. I can't…I can't see anything else. If there's something else worth…worth it, I can't see it."

"There is a child, Miho," Itachi said softly.

"Not without you. It was all for you. For you to stay. And now you're gone and I…"

She could not speak any longer. Her throat was so constricted that she felt like she was choking. How would she be a mother? She only wanted the child because she wanted Itachi, and there was nothing else now.

Itachi let out a breath, more out of habit than anything else, as he leaned his forehead against hers. The Sharingan she had hated so much had never been so welcoming.

"I could end it," he said calmly. "I could put you to sleep now, like so many times before when I wanted to give you peace. I could do it…and this time, it would not be so fleeting like it always has been. You would close your eyes and never wake up. And we…"

The three tomoe swirled, bringing an exhausted smile to Miho's lips. She reached up and caressed his cheek.

"How tempting," she murmured. "We would be together."

"Death is a lonely place when you enter too early," he said quietly. "It is a dark void…no beginning, no end. There is a place to move on to, but I couldn't. I was waiting…for you to follow. 'Soon,' I kept telling myself. 'She will be here soon.' But you did not come, and I did not know how much time had passed. An hour, a day, a year? Was this my curse—to have you in life only to give you up, and then never to see you in death? But now I know." He touched the swell of her stomach lightly. "It is not the right time."

"Then how long?" she pressed. "How much longer do I have to be here?"

He pressed his icy lips to her forehead.

"You will know. The crows will come."

"Did they for you?"

He smiled. "I Summoned them."

Slowly, she brought her hands to his shoulders.

"The last time you spoke to me, you said…you said that you and I should never have existed. That we only exist in our dreams. Were they our dreams, Itachi? Or were they just mine?"

His smile grew sad. "They were mine as well, Miho. More than anything."

"Not anything," she said. "Not Sasuke. Not Konoha."

"Some dreams were never meant for reality."

She would have scoffed and let go of him, but she did not. She could get angry later, when she was alone and he was gone, but there was little time now. Miho contained herself by pursing her lips together as her eyes stung with renewed tears. She looked elsewhere, focusing on the pinwheel necklace that he wore even in death. It was enough—she did not want to discuss how their future had only been a figment of their imaginations.

But Itachi was focused on the wrong side of reality.

"Miho," he slowly, "promise me that…you will raise the child here. In Konoha. And that you will not reveal the truth behind the massacre to the public."

She let go of him now, her eyes flashing in disbelief.

"We get time to talk after your death and you're going to make me promise you things?" she said evenly. "Your child will grow up in a Konoha that hates them—"

"A Konoha that is safe," he interrupted. "A Konoha that is stable…and will protect our child. You know I am right. Revealing the truth after the war will cause all the citizens to lose faith in their government—"

"You are _dead_ and you want to talk about politics?!"

"Promise me," he said firmly. "Swear to me that you will live for our child and that you will do what I've asked…to protect the Konoha our child will live in."

"How can you be dead and piss me off in such a short amount of time?" she said forcefully. "Do you care at all for how I feel? For what I think? Do you think that you've done your job, convincing me that staying alive for our child is worth it, and now you can ask me to promise whatever the hell you want?"

"Miho—"

"You don't care! You have never understood just the magnitude of what you mean to me, Itachi—for God's sake, you're fucking dead! You're not here, you're not the one left behind and feeling like an empty glass surrounded by full ones who have things to live for, things to love. You don't understand just how fucking awful it feels, Itachi, every time I wake up and have to realize all over again that you're dead and gone—you don't know what it feels like to know you're alone because you've been abandoned because I never abandoned you! And now—"

The tent flap opened abruptly, and the two of them let go of each other and whirled around instantly. At the entrance, Sakura waved abashedly.

"I'm sorry," she said anxiously. "It's…I just sent Kakashi-sensei off and he said that Itachi-san is the only one who knows where to find the Edo-Tensei user and he needs to set out immediately."

Itachi nodded. "I understand."

_So soon_? Miho thought blankly. But it was true—Itachi was already adjusting his cloak and pulling his hood over his head. With a lingering look at Miho that could almost be considered cold, he turned away, heading for the exit.

"Wait," she said frantically.

He stopped.

"Sakura," Miho said, "please…two minutes."

"Oh…okay," she said, bowing slightly as she took her leave.

Itachi turned back to her, his face a mask of neutrality once again. Miho bit down on her tongue so hard it sent a jolt of pain through her body. Why was it that even when he was dead, Itachi always got what he wanted?

Last words. They were even more painful than the first ones.

"I swear," she said quietly.

Pain flashed through his eyes, as quick as lightning, and before she knew it, he pulled her back in his embrace. The promise meant so much to him, enough to spend these two extra minutes holding her rather than leaving her without another word. It infuriated her, but any anger was for her to cope with alone. She should not have wasted time arguing with him. She just wanted to hold him, wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be okay. She wanted him to say that he cared and that he was sorry.

"Keep your temper and tongue in check, Miho," he said, his voice buried in her hair. "Be kind to those who are kind to you. And…do not hate Konoha, Miho. Do not hate Sasuke. What little I can correct now…I will try my best to do so. But if I cannot…try to forgive them. They are not at fault. They were trying to protect what was important to them."

There was no longer time left, and she could not help it now. She held him back, her hands clinging to his cloak, and she was reminded of how he'd left her in that illusion when she'd tried so desperately to keep him there. But this was not an illusion now. Itachi was going, he was already gone, and Miho had to accept.

"Miho, I miss you as well," he said softly, "more than I dare to. But do not come too soon, Miho. I will wait however long you want me to."

After a brief squeeze, he released her. He needed to go—he had an enemy to find, a world to save. Perhaps she really was so narrow-minded, for she could not think of anything but wishing for him to stay. Itachi was at the exit when Miho blurted out the stupidest thing that could come to mind.

"Did you love me?"

He looked at her, almost confused.

"Truly," she said, "love me. Not…not because I was there. Or convenient."

He understood, smiling that same sad smile he always had when he realized just how little faith she had in him.

"Truly," he answered. "Honestly and truly. But if I were to live this life again…"

He looked at her sympathetically, and she understood.

"You'd do the same thing," she whispered.

His smile became kind and knowing.

"Goodbye, Miho."

And before she could say "Goodbye" in return, he was gone.


	30. Crows' Calling

**Chapter 30: Crows' Calling**

_They say that everything heals with time. _

_I can see where that comes from. There are days where I find myself smiling. I don't forget—I just temporarily don't remember. The omnipresent burden lifts just ever so slightly when I see Hiro's face light up, and I see in him: Itachi, Itachi, Itachi. _

_The memory of Itachi sustains me only briefly, and then I am plunged into that hole I always dig myself, that hole of resentment and fury and refusal to forgive him and refusal to forget him and ultimately the love that I know still pulls me so temptingly towards death as well—and then I see Hiro again, and I know._

_Now is not the right time._

* * *

Uchiha Hiro was born four months after the end of Fourth Shinobi War. He was not born in a hospital. Doctors refused point-blank to admit the widow of Konoha's most infamous mass murderer—indeed, hardly anyone in Konoha could understand why he'd had a wife at all, why he'd had a child, and why the two who survived him were allowed to remain in Konoha peacefully for the rest of their days. Despite Miho's desire to remain alone, Tsunade was the one oversaw the birth and delivered Hiro. It was an act that Miho would forever be grateful for, given the complications during surgery when the umbilical cord had somehow wound itself around Hiro's neck. Tsunade had caught it in the nick of time, saving Hiro's life before it had even begun.

The truth behind Uchiha Itachi was not revealed. Those who knew it were surprised that Miho did not argue more for his vindication—in fact, it was Naruto who fought most vehemently for Itachi's exoneration, and it was none other than Miho, who, at that time eight months pregnant, cradled her swollen stomach and said in that toneless voice of hers:

"That's enough."

Naruto turned to her furiously. "It isn't enough! He saved Konoha _twice_! Destroying Edo-Tensei and convincing Sasuke to fight with us let us defeat Madara! I don't care if it means outing Konoha—everyone needs to know—"

"You do not know Uchiha Itachi," said Miho in her customary bitterness. "That man desired no glory, no fame, no fortune. He…" She let out a scoff, her eyes averting elsewhere as she grimaced derisively. "He was happy. When he died…he was happy. In the end…it was Konoha he cared for. Not himself. I speak…purely for Uchiha Itachi. Don't tell Konoha."

Anyone could tell that the words were practically forced out of her mouth. She did not agree with a single word that she had said. Her gray eyes flickered over to the two elderly council members who had breathed a sigh of relief at her words; as her gaze fell on them, they stiffened, bracing themselves for any onslaught she had prepared next.

"You should be grateful," she said, her words directed purely to the two of them.

They said nothing. They knew that they had won.

"You should," repeated Miho. "Were it not for the Godaime, for Kakashi, for Naruto…for the child growing inside of me…for Itachi…" Her eyes flickered again. "I would kill you two myself."

Kakashi rested a hand on her shoulder in warning. Anything she said could be used against her: she was technically a criminal, a prisoner of Konoha, though only the higher-ups knew otherwise.

"It's fine," she said, turning away, her pale hands rubbing her stomach. "I don't intend to do anything. I just want them to remember the man who has done so much for them. For this village. This nation."

She was at the door when she whispered again, and this time it was only Kakashi who heard her.

"And did nothing for me."

* * *

_Sometimes, I hate Itachi now more than I ever did when I believed that he was the psychopath that I so dearly wished for him to be. I hate him for lying to me when he was alive. I hate him for letting me fall so desperately in love with him when he should have stopped me, when he knew he could never return those feelings in the same way. I hate him for all the ironies he's left me with: for him dying when I'd just found the cure, for him dying right when I got pregnant, for him dying without even trying. Sometimes this rage consumes me so completely that I half-wish he was alive just so I could physically demonstrate this hatred and this loss._

_But I know that this rage would be supplanted by that same wordlessness I felt when I saw him after he'd been resurrected by the Edo-Tensei. I will never forget the look on his face when he realized what the bulge in my belly meant—I will never forget that initial silence, that utter lack of words between us—who knew that when we bridged the chasm of life and death to meet, all we would have for each other was such a sheer, unbreakable silence? But it was enough—the moment he touched my stomach, the moment he touched me again, his hand unbearably icy and dead…it was enough for me to accept. He knew nothing about me trying to have a child—nothing about my ulterior motives behind this baby, to tie him to me, to make him remember me above Sasuke, above Konoha… _

_And yet, at that time…I was so afraid to ask. To ask that if he'd known…would he have stayed?_

* * *

To many, the prevailing existence of the surviving Uchiha was Konoha's one and only anathema. During the Fourth Shinobi War, Sasuke had fought vehemently with the right side after a change of heart. To those who did not know The Truth, Sasuke's sudden change in allegiance was nothing but peculiar.

Thus, after the war ended, he was put on trial for his previous transgressions. He did not make much of a defense for himself. Whatever Itachi had told his brother after he had been resurrected by the Edo-Tensei seemed to have quenched Sasuke's thirst for vengeance, and Sasuke listened to all his charges without batting an eyelash.

Again, it was Naruto who fought most fervently for his friend and Sakura who shed the most tears at Sasuke's ruling: spared the death penalty that should have been passed on all deserters and traitors, Sasuke would be confined to Konoha unless he went on official missions, supervised by a team of highly qualified ANBU members. He was forbidden to ascend in rank, thereby forever remaining a genin.

It was all very stupid. A team of qualified ANBU members was nothing but cannon fodder if Sasuke truly wanted to leave the village, and though Sasuke was a proud individual, his pride was shackled to that of the Uchiha clan. Ranks meant little after fighting in a war where people died indiscriminately.

When the last ruling was read aloud, though, the courtroom fell into a deathly silence. Sasuke said nothing, but Miho could tell that he was stunned, and his eyes unconsciously morphed into Sharingan as his chakra began to boil.

It was one of the rare moments since Itachi's death that Miho showed Sasuke any sign of kindness. She stood up unsteadily, as she was still recovering from giving birth. Leaning heavily on the back of the chair in front of her, she spat out:

"_Why_?!"

She had spoken up, partially because she was furious, partially because Sasuke needed a diversion before he unleashed Amaterasu. As wonderful as it would be to see Koharu and Mitokado burn to death, Sasuke had only narrowly escaped the death sentence and at the end of the day, keeping Sasuke alive was what Itachi had lived his entire life for.

At the sound of Miho's voice, all heads in the courtroom turned to look at her.

"Why?" repeated Koharu, who had read the sentencing aloud. "The council has decided that it would be a danger to Konoha should the Uchiha clan be rebuilt."

"What danger?!" snapped Miho. "The new Uchiha members haven't even been born yet! This clan can be rebuilt on the proper foundations—"

"By whom, may I ask?" said the councilwoman in a deadly drawl. "The only two Uchiha brothers who survived the massacre both turned out to be great threats to the safety of this village. You yourself have recently given birth to Uchiha Itachi's child, but we cannot afford to allow any more children of traitors to populate this village."

"You have _got to be fucking with me_."

"Language," said the councilman sternly. "You should be grateful for your status and safety of your child already, Chiaki Miho. We cannot afford the same liberties to Uchiha Sasuke, who is infinitely more dangerous."

"It is his right! He has a right to build a family that was ripped away from him! You are denying him the right to have his own children—"

"It's fine," said Sasuke suddenly. "I understand the verdict." He looked at Miho, his Sharingan deactivating into a dead cesspool of black. "It's fine."

Beside her, Kakashi tugged her wrist, indicating for her to sit back down. She resisted, her tongue sharp and ready to last out. But then her eyes met Sasuke's lifeless ones, and she knew there was no point. He was resigned to his fate. Sasuke saw this as his penitence.

At another urgent tug from Kakashi, Miho obeyed and sat down unwillingly. The words of comfort Kakashi whispered in her ear did little to soothe her—they were as empty as he knew them to be.

_Keep the reputation of the Uchiha clan intact_, Itachi had told Naruto, and he had gotten his wish.

What a stupid man.

* * *

_The foundational moral of criminals is to have none. _

_But Itachi was not a criminal, and at the end of the day, Sasuke was not either. So who was? _

_That phrase was Kisame's mantra. I wonder if he repeated it to himself to kill any conscience he had, though anyone can tell that he failed. Duty, honor, pride. He was not so different from the rest of them._

_The foundational moral of criminals is to have none. _

_I seem to make an excellent criminal._

* * *

Since the day of his verdict, Miho did not interact with Uchiha Sasuke. Tsunade had advised her against it, since people would be uncomfortable with the last remaining Uchiha apparently colluding in public, but Miho did not need the Hokage's warning—she did not want to see Sasuke herself. She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she could not forgive him, just like she could not forgive his brother, and just like she could not forgive the village she resided in for living in ignorance. The things Miho lived by were only in respect of the man she had lived her entire life for. She kept the streaks of selfishness solely to herself, which only made her more introverted, hateful, and bitter towards the rest of Konoha.

Yet she knew she could not live this way for Hiro, nor could she ignore the kindness of those who did know the truth and so adamantly wanted it out in the open. Despite the fact that Miho's presence was clearly unwanted in Konoha's hospital, Tsunade, Shizune, and Sakura made multiple efforts to have her instated as a practicing doctor, efforts which were firmly rebutted by the hospital's board of administrators. Nevertheless, Miho's skill was not common, nor was her kekkei genkai. In exchange for the annual donation of Miho's blood to the hospital, Tsunade adamantly insisted that Miho be allowed to participate as a practicing diagnostician, one whom the residents and other attendings turned to reluctantly when the Godaime and her two prized students were busy. Miho did not turn down hospital inquiries because they were her source of income; all the same, it made her stomach churn with an acerbic dislike when she recognized the patient to be the mother of a child who avidly tormented Hiro when he, much like his father, sank into his solitary, pensive moods at the Academy.

Nevertheless, Miho appreciated Tsunade, Sakura, and Shizune for their efforts to make her life easier. Naruto, too, was a wonder—highly respected in the entire village, he made heads turn when he sought her out in public to chat, to inquire about Hiro, to let her know how Sasuke was doing in solitary confinement even when Miho never asked or wanted to know.

But there was no one, absolutely no one, to whom Miho was indebted to like she was to Hatake Kakashi. What she would've done without him was beyond her imagination. The things that Kakashi had done were mad and touching: to vouch for her when everyone in Konoha believed her to be corrupted by both Orochimaru and Itachi; to argue against the council for her to be allowed freedom within Konoha; and most of all, to be kind to Hiro when hardly any other adult could look at him without contempt for his existence. Miho had known that their relationship was special from the start, but all the same, she did not expect him to take it so far. He was present in every step of Hiro's life, from Hiro's first steps to his first words. Kakashi was kind in a way that only he could manage, with the same kindness he had exhibited when she had been an unwanted teenager. He connected with Hiro on a level that Miho could not, and in turn, Hiro loved Kakashi with the same heart that he could not entrust to his own mother.

For the early years after Itachi's death, Kakashi served as the bridge between her and her son, but Miho was hesitant to let him into their lives completely. Itachi's spirit always seemed to linger close to her, and though she could never deny the connection she and Kakashi had, it just seemed…wrong. She had long realized her over-dependence on him and had struggled to confront it, but something about Kakashi always pulled her back. Nothing ever seemed to be too much for Kakashi to give: his time, his gentleness, and eventually, his home.

Eight years after the war, Kakashi asked Miho to marry him. He was not surprised when Miho said no.

"Thought I'd just go through the formalities," said Kakashi as they cleaned up the dinner table together.

"Why do you do these things when you know the answer already?" said Miho.

"Because I sometimes wonder if it would make you happier."

"All of the women in Konoha, single or not, bound together and swore eternal hatred against me when I moved in with you three years ago," she said wryly. "The act of marriage would only infuriate them further."

"You know we both couldn't care less."

"Is this because of Hiro?" said Miho, turning on the faucet and rinsing the dishes.

Kakashi didn't reply immediately.

"What did he say to you this time?" said Miho evenly.

"He's seven, Miho. He doesn't understand…"

"Why we live with you and you're not his father?"

"Frankly, yes. You don't expect him to, do you?"

Miho only seethed in silence.

"He's a child," restated Kakashi. "He wants a nuclear family structure: father, mother, child. He doesn't understand why he's made fun of at school—"

"I want to pull him out of the Academy."

"Miho."

"It doesn't do him any good," said Miho. "Anything they teach him, I can teach him better. I want him to be as far away from everyone if he activates his Sharingan, because the moment he does, he's going to be given hell for being Itachi's son—"

"Miho. You can't keep doing this. Isolating yourself and Hiro—"

"He's my son, Kakashi."

"Yes," said Kakashi quietly, "but his father entrusted him to me as well."

Miho whirled around, nearly deranged at this conviction.

"Kakashi, you…when does it ever end?!"

"What?" he said.

"Your kindness! Where…do you know what you've done to yourself, Kakashi, living with me? Do you know what people say? You've been deluded by the demented wife of a psychopath—they don't know why you can stand to love a boy who's not even your son! Marriage, Kakashi? I could never marry you—if it weren't for Hiro, I wouldn't be standing in front of you, Kakashi, I—"

He touched her cheek lightly. The barest bit of contact between them calmed her down. She turned to him as he reached over to stop the faucet, and then his hand trailed from her cheek to rest on her shoulder firmly.

"I wish you wouldn't paint me as some martyr, Miho," said Kakashi simply. "Has it not occurred to you yet that I enjoy your company quite a bit?"

"It's not worth it, Kakashi."

"I beg to differ," he replied, his eyes winking from behind his mask.

She gave him an appraising look, but he remained innocently playful. Miho blew up often, but unlike with Itachi, she was almost never angry with Kakashi. He was ceaselessly patient and was only harsh with her when it came to Hiro.

The rumors surrounding their relationship never appeared to bother him, though Sakura had told Miho that the only time she had seen Kakashi lose his temper was when he and his old students had gone out for drinks. At the bar, one drunk shinobi had asked Kakashi what it was like "fucking some traitor's leftovers." Kakashi had smiled, poured a tankard of beer over the man's head, and had electrocuted him with a Chidori that was remotely amplified by Sasuke's. Naruto had punched him in the face. Sakura had punched him through three walls. ("Don't worry," Sakura had added hastily when Miho had blanched at the news. "He was an ANBU member…such small injures are considered rudimentary, don't you think?")

So yes, in the times when Miho was calm and content, she recognized how she personally could think their relationship was worth it. She had the advantage.

"Why is it worth it, Kakashi?" she asked.

"…You know I've always had trouble with words," he replied. "I think you know better than I do."

She reached up to his cheek and tugged the mask lower. She'd seen his face for the first time the night they had first slept together, several months after she'd moved in. She remembered thinking crassly that it was her form of paying the rent.

But of course, it wasn't. Kakashi loved her in the same way she loved him: strangely. It was not purely platonic—neither of them bothered with convincing themselves with that notion. Still, they didn't force it to be anything greater than what it was. The main factor that gravitated them towards each other was a sense of loss, the knowledge that they were two lonely souls wandering on the face of the planet with no intention of loving anyone else again because their hearts were claimed by the dead. Yet, there was an undeniable kind of chemistry between the two of them, the same connection that had caused Kakashi to take Miho as his personal protégé, the emotions that she'd felt for him back then and had confused for love. These emotions now drove her to accept him as an integral part of her life, sexually and otherwise.

She traced his cheekbone down his narrow face, around his strong jaw. He was a handsome man, which had been a pleasant surprise for Miho; she'd spent years dreaming of what monstrosity was under that mask of his, though after knowing him for so long, Kakashi could have been buck-toothed and pimply and she wouldn't have cared.

But no, his was merely a simple, elegant face. She leaned forward and kissed him, her mouth sucking the scar that marred his left cheek, from the tip of his cheekbone down to his chin. He remained still for a while, clearly enjoying it, before he brought his hands up and lifted her up to lean her against the edge of the counter, when his mouth found hers and he began to kiss her.

They were lovers. Not soulmates.

Because Miho could always tell. When she kissed Kakashi, she couldn't help but think of Itachi. And when Kakashi kissed her, she knew that he was thinking of Rin.

And so they stayed with each other, loving each other with the parts of their hearts that weren't already resting in the grave, claimed in the still hands of those buried and forever cold.

* * *

_One of my greatest fears is to find out if Hiro has inherited a kekkei genkai. And if so, which one. I do not know which one would be worse. The Sharingan would be strong, but would mark him as the village's greatest enemy. The Ishachi would kill him. _

_For once, I now realize why my own father so adamantly refused for me to join the hospital, to become a doctor. For no matter how much I told myself that I would not die for people I didn't care for, I finally know that this is impossible. I do not have the power to make my own selfish judgments, to resist the tug of innate humanity and ignore those in need. _

_All the same, I try. And that is just because I am a cruel, coldhearted person with plenty of reason to resist helping others. But I can already tell that Hiro is not the same—his personality is more like Itachi's, and I can tell that despite his position in society, he loves Konoha more than I ever did. And if he has the Ishachi, he will use it indiscriminately. Even for people who hate him. _

* * *

"I'm begging you—"

"Get out."

"My husband—"

"I said. Get out."

Miho looked on pitilessly at the woman kneeling before her—beside the woman was her son, who looked up at Miho with an expression of mixed condescension and fright. How the two emotions could possibly be mixed was beyond her, but Miho did not miss the disdain in the boy's face when he glanced over at Hiro, who was idling quietly behind Miho.

"You were singing a different song yesterday," said Miho coolly. "Something about Hiro's injuries being a result of his own 'carelessness,' mm? Nothing about little Jin behind you bullying him?"

The woman winced.

"Don't pretend," Miho continued. "I know you tell your son the same things that the rest of the village does—that Hiro's the son of the world's greatest criminal, that he doesn't deserve to be alive because he—"

"Miho, that's enough," said a sharp voice.

Kakashi entered the room, his attire and expression worn. It was clear that he had literally just returned from a mission. Miho seethed internally; the mission had been a long one and she had not wanted Kakashi to return to such a stressful situation. Regardless, Hiro looked relieved at the sight of him. Likewise, Kakashi gave him a kind look before turning to Miho, where his gaze hardened.

"Hiro's still here," he said chidingly. "Don't say things you'll regret later."

"I'm guessing someone's already told you why this woman is here," she said.

"The Godaime did when I gave her the mission report."

"And what do you think?"

"What I think won't make a difference—I know you won't give them your blood."

"My husband," sobbed the woman, "he's dying, please, the disease is incurable otherwise—we didn't expect it to attack so suddenly—"

"When you were gone on your mission," said Miho to Kakashi icily, "Hiro came home last night with four lacerations on his face and a black eye—if you think for a second that I'm going to just heal the father of the boy who did that to him—"

"Tooru-san," interrupted Kakashi, turning his attention to the woman.

The woman looked at him in hope.

"You are aware of the effect that giving blood has on Miho's body, are you not?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"And you know that your son has been torturing Hiro since they started at the Academy?"

"I-I—"

"Don't pretend, you liar," muttered Miho.

Kakashi laid a hand on her shoulder in warning.

"Then why do you think you have the justification to come and ask for Miho to give her life for your husband's?"

She faltered. "I…"

"You already are well aware of the reasons as to why Miho refuses to give you her blood. I must also decline the request—Miho has given the necessary amount of blood to the hospital this year. They are to make do with what they have. I cannot allow her to donate any more than that—I must take her health into consideration."

"But—"

"Tooru-san, please give me one sufficient reason to consider your proposition and I will try to convince Miho otherwise," said Kakashi, his voice gentle but connoting a warning.

Tooru did not answer. The room fell silent, save for her sobs. Miho looked away.

"…Do I have the Ishachi?" said Hiro's voice from behind.

Miho turned instantly to him.

"No," she said sharply. "You don't. You can't help."

"…You don't know already," said Hiro.

He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a thin kunai. With the dexterity of one who practiced often, he spun it in his hand and placed it on his wrist, the customary place to slit—

"Hiro!"

The admonishment bordered a scream; Miho lunged forward and snatched the kunai away—she would've slapped him, but Kakashi had already appeared to hold him back, out of Miho's reach. Instead, Miho whirled around, eyes blazing, and with one quick slash, cut into her own wrist deeply. The blood flung from the cut onto the wooden floor. Holding her dripping hand tightly, she snarled,

"Where's your vial?"

Hobbling forward, Tooru placed it under the streaming line of blood that slid messily down onto the floor. It was only half-full when Kakashi placed his hand over Miho's cut, sealing it and preventing her life force from depleting any further.

"That's enough," he said, his voice now edging a harsh hatred. Yet this time, the uncustomary coldness was not directed towards Miho; he glared at Tooru with incredible dislike, but the look that would've made others shake in their boots was lost on the mother. She capped the vial tremulously, gave one frightened look at Hiro who remained impassive behind his mother, and bowed hastily before ushering her son and herself out of the house without another word.

"Rash," murmured Kakashi, touching Miho's arm to ensure that the cut was closed. "That was unnecessary—it was unsanitary and you wasted a good deal."

"It's fine," she muttered, trying to brush him off. "I'll clean it up."

She stumbled, though, and Kakashi caught her.

"Rest," he said. "I'll get it later."

"Hiro," said Miho coolly.

Her son grew rigid and looked at her hesitantly.

"Never," said Miho haggardly, "do that again. _Ever_. Do you understand me?"

He nodded. "Yes, Okaa-san."

"I mean it," she said with renewed fierceness, her anger overcoming her lack of breath. "I don't care if he's dying in front of you—I don't care if they're all dying in front of you—you will _never_ cut yourself open for any of them, do you understand?!"

Kakashi massaged her shoulders and guided her upstairs.

"He won't," said Kakashi. "I'll make sure—you just need to rest. I'll talk to him." He pressed his masked lips to her cheek consolingly. "Don't worry."

* * *

_After Itachi died, I swore that I would not hand out my blood to anyone else for any reason. It is reserved strictly for those I love or owe a great debt to—the number of people of which I can count on one hand. Of course, the deal with the hospital made that impossible, but still. Giving my blood to that stupid woman to preserve her stupid family just broke every decree that I made to myself. Never have I cursed my son so much as I did in that one moment. I don't care if the entire village burns down—Hiro will never give his blood out to anyone unless he genuinely loves them. _

_Itachi and his self-sacrificial bullshit. Look where it got him. _

_Dead and hated._

_And it looks like he passed it on. Preservation of the most desired trait for the perfect shinobi._

* * *

"Long day, Miho?"

Entangled in the sheets, they laid side-by-side, breathing harshly against one another.

"Mm…" She closed her eyes as Kakashi eased her onto the pillows, his arm nestled in the crook of her back, drawing her close to him.

"If you're tired, just let me know. You know I will not insist."

"No, I enjoyed it," she murmured, her lips brushing his. "And you just got back from a mission. You need to unwind."

"I am not that animalistic, Miho. I take your health into consideration over my sex life."

"It's healthy," she said. "Don't worry about it." She brushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed him deeply.

Kakashi's missions had gotten longer and longer; though they were not as dangerous as before, the political structure and relations between the other Lands required extensive times away from Konoha. Miho had previously voiced her concern for Kakashi's involvement—he was growing older and sometimes she worried that the scuffles could escalate and Kakashi's life would actually be threatened—but he would only repeat meaningless words aimed to assuage her worries. Miho knew Konoha would not endanger Kakashi easily—he was too valuable—but all the same. She wanted him to stay. Needed him to remain alive.

Kakashi glossed his hand down her side and rolled her on her back.

"Sleep," he said. "I shouldn't have initiated anything when you're donating blood tomorrow."

Miho did not answer immediately. "It's fine."

Her words were sedate, but Kakashi knew her inside and out.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

Her relationship with Kakashi was in many ways the ideal relationship she'd ever wanted. After a pitiful love with Itachi that had been full of lies and secrets, Miho had made it clear to Kakashi that she could not trust him completely. There was no way she could open up about anything and everything—there were secrets between her and Itachi she could never reveal, memories during her imprisonment she never wanted anyone to know. But the problem was that Kakashi already knew a good bit after watching her multiple interrogations, and once again, Miho was trapped in a lopsided relationship where the other partner knew her while she remained ignorant.

Yet, this relationship with Kakashi was not quite the same—he was a man of many secrets, but unlike Itachi, he was not wholeheartedly against Miho understanding him. It took some time, but several years after living together, Kakashi began to open up to her about things that very few knew the facts about, and even fewer knew the emotions Kakashi bottled up inside of him. Things about Rin, Obito. A ceaseless guilt and the firm belief that he could never love anyone again. Not that he was incapable of it himself, but that he adamantly believed he did not possibly _deserve_ the love he wanted after he'd killed Rin. It had taken him a long time after her death to come to terms with his physical need for touch and companionship, and even longer for him to accept that his occasional romantic trysts were not sins. Regardless, he had emotionally barred himself from ever entering a long-term relationship—he had murdered his two most beloved friends for the sake of his village, and it was to this village that he was wed.

Which was why his affair, relationship, whatever it was called, with Miho was already "too much" and "too perfect."

"You're insane," she'd said after one of their conversations that had become unbearably personal. "Regardless of anything you'd done in the past, you have to be forgiven. You're…you. There's no one like you. You deserve someone who loves you unconditionally."

"Few people are as lucky as Itachi, Miho."

She'd scoffed bitterly. "Lucky is a subjective term. I think plenty would think that I was one of the most unfortunate things to ever happen to him. Even people who know the whole story would think so."

"If you're talking about the elders in the council—"

"Who else?" she'd said coolly. "I was Itachi's greatest temptation to remain alive. Everything I wanted was everything Konoha couldn't afford. Of course I was the bane of his existence—I challenged him, his goals, his beliefs, his resignation to die. Loving him unconditionally was stupid. Out of everyone in the world, he was the last one who deserved an unconditional love—precisely because _he didn't want it_. You're different. You would give someone your all."

Kakashi had smiled wryly. "Do you really think he and I are that different?"

She hadn't answered. No, of course not. Their duties resided with Konoha. Perhaps this was Miho's fate—to only love those who loved the village she hated so much.

Yet to her, this relationship with Kakashi was as ideal as she could have ever hoped for, especially in a post-Itachi world. The fact that she actually felt for Kakashi the things that she did—and that Kakashi was on the exact same page with her—was a gift from Fate that Miho truthfully deserved. It was acknowledgement of this gift that made Miho begin to trust Kakashi, to tell him things about Itachi she would utter once in a lifetime, and to show him—just once—the extent of her mutilated body. She didn't know if Kakashi was repulsed by it, but either way, he didn't show it. Their sex continued, if not with more fervor than before.

The conversations of past resurfaced in Miho's mind temporarily, but she did not bring them up. They were irrelevant. No matter how she wanted to convince Kakashi that he deserved someone else, the fact remained that she could not let him go. If any woman challenged her position, Miho knew she would be jealous for more reasons than one. Kakashi was hers.

But more importantly, Kakashi was Hiro's. Hiro needed him, and therefore, Miho would never let Kakashi belong to anyone else as long as she was alive. But what about after she died? Kakashi deserved love—a true and deep love, something they did not share.

"Miho?" prompted Kakashi kindly, jostling her back to the present.

She looked at him, studying his unmasked face.

"I'm growing tired," she said quietly.

He knew what she meant despite the ambiguous response.

"Since when?" he said sharply.

"…Several months ago," she said. "After you came back from your mission in the Stone…and right before you left again."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"You were going on a mission for the Hokage, Kakashi. I wasn't going to keel over, and you don't need anything silly burdening you when you're working."

"It's hardly silly, Miho—"

"You don't need anything challenging your loyalty to the village, Kakashi," she said with a weary smile. "I think I've served as that challenge for enough excellent Konoha shinobi."

She sighed and curled up against his body.

"Miho," said Kakashi, his hold on her tightening.

"Mm?"

"Hiro still needs you."

She scoffed. "Hiro has never needed me, Kakashi. The only one he needs is you."

"You know that's not—"

"No, you know I'm right. Hiro loves you because you represent the bidirectional acceptance of and for the village. If I had a choice, I'd hide Hiro away in a different country forever. But Hiro doesn't want that. He wants the history this place represents for him, and in the long run, he'll want to know who exactly his father was and the great sacrifice that he made for this village." Miho exhaled. "I won't give him that picture. I'll paint Itachi in the way that I see him. Konoha will only see Itachi's betrayal. You, on the other hand, know the full story. You understand me, and you understand Konoha. You are the mentor Hiro needs to grow up and establish himself." She looked up at him. "You're the only means for him to receive the full story of Itachi: loyalty, strength, guilt, shame, hatred, and all."

Kakashi remained silent for several minutes. The look he gave her—of tenderness, sympathy, of fear—was closest to the one Itachi had given her the night before he'd died.

"Miho?"

"Mm?"

"Does it not occur to you that I may need you to stay?"

Miho smiled again, feeling wearier than she'd ever been before, as pain—a new one, one that she had been trying to suppress—stabbed quickly somewhere inside of her. She kissed him, her hand snaking to his neck as she held him tightly.

"Eleven years, Kakashi. You can let me go from my miserable life now."

"…Have the last eleven years been so miserable?" he asked as he returned the embrace.

"With you, no. You have made me the closest to…no," she conceded, "you've made me happy. Truly, you have. Don't add me to your list of reasons to feel eternally guilty about yourself. If anything, how you've treated me for these last eleven years should have exonerated you for all your sins."

The words fell almost senselessly out of her mouth, but she mulled over them. Kakashi's thoughts were elsewhere.

"Funny, isn't it?" she said quietly. "I just called everything you've done for Konoha a sin. I just said that how well you've treated me—a criminal and prisoner of Konoha—somehow absolves those sins." She gave a wry chuckle. "How full of myself."

If Kakashi found this statement strange, he did not pursue it. Miho said odd things and he generally let them slide, knowing that Miho's sanity often slipped from her. He instead refocused the conversation.

"Miho, you are still far too young."

"Not really," she said mildly. "My mother died when she was nearly forty, and though she lived through a war, she did not have to suffer through Orochimaru. Compared to her, I think I exhausted my life force long ago."

"You are not your mother."

"…Kakashi," she said gently. "I know it's hard…but there will still be some time. I'm not sure when I will die…I just know it will be soon."

"Hiro is still a child."

"He's eleven now. He has you—"

"Miho, it is not the same!" he said angrily. "You cannot consider this fulfilling your duty to Itachi; Hiro is a child and you made a promise to—"

"Do _not_ use what Itachi wanted against me," snapped Miho, her eyes blazing. "I have abided by what he wanted for so long—I didn't snap those elders' necks, nor did I tell Konoha everything about the Uchiha massacre. I was the only one who believed him when he was alive and I was the one he abandoned. I raised his son and even you must acknowledge, Hatake Kakashi, that _I owe Itachi nothing_."

A silence followed, but even after a long time, Kakashi remained wordless. Miho knew that he always had problems with her lack of will, but this time, she had wounded him greatly.

"Kakashi," she said softly, "even you must admit that this is the right time. You are going to be inaugurated as Hokage in half a year. If we're still living together by then—"

"You know I don't care about that," he said coldly.

She could not help but wince. Kakashi was rarely angry, even less so with her, but when he was, Miho was reminded of the base cruelty that existed in every shinobi, no matter how gentle they were otherwise.

"You know this is right," she insisted. "We need to separate…before your inauguration. The villagers love you but…I don't do much for your reputation, I'm afraid."

"This village is fickle and like any government, Konoha has its problems," he said. "It doesn't warrant me abandoning you."

"Kakashi, we are not married," said Miho edgily. "When we began this relationship, it was on the premise that neither of us are truly in love with the other. You don't need to feel obligated to keep being so good to me."

"It's not an obligation," said Kakashi curtly.

He turned around so that his back was facing her, and with his movement, the conversation ended.

* * *

_I don't owe Itachi anything. I have done what I could. I hung on for eleven years. Eleven godforsaken years. _

_If that doesn't count as trying, then nothing will. _

_The time is right now._

* * *

"Your vitals are stable," Tsunade said, checking the charts. "But of course, you knew that."

Miho nodded slowly.

"By direct order of the Hokage, you are not allowed to donate any more blood," the Hokage said severely. "I don't care who shows up saying that they have the order—it's not allowed. If any asshole thinks otherwise, you can refer him to me. Understand?"

"Yes. Seriously, though, I don't mind if you bleed me dry on my deathbed."

Tsunade scoffed. "I know you're lying, and like hell would I allow that. I wish I had never signed that idiotic deal with the hospital in the first place. I did an evaluation of the incoming residents the other day and they're all unbearably incompetent. They think the cure to half of the severe-but-treatable diseases list is your blood. No wonder we keep running out so quickly—with how much you've donated, we should've had enough to last through three wars. I'll be glad when the last bit of the final supply runs out; we can start teaching medics how to actually be medics again."

"I wasn't planning on telling you that I was starting to feel its effects," admitted Miho. "Did Kakashi alert you?"

She and Kakashi had been walking on eggshells lately. Miho was looking for another apartment that she and Hiro could move to, and though Kakashi said nothing, she knew that this injured him. Still, with her death coming soon, it would be best for things to die down between them so that it would not hurt him so much in the end. This, at least, was what she had wanted Itachi to do for her.

"Of course," said Tsunade. "So did Shizune and Sakura when they reviewed your charts from your last visit. Stop acting as if you want to die so badly, Miho. You have more friends than you think."

Miho nodded again absently, but all she could think of was what Kisame had told her so long ago. _The one thing you can never cure is the will to die._

"How's your son?"

"He's fine," answered Miho. "He's eleven now…graduated from the Academy."

"Early," remarked Tsunade. "Kids typically graduate when they're thirteen now."

"As they should," Miho replied. "Kids should stay kids for as long as they can."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out for which jounin he gets," she said. "Have any preferences?"

"Just someone who doesn't think Hiro is going to grow up and slaughter all of Konoha like Itachi did," said Miho dryly, recalling a rumor she had heard recently.

Tsunade pursed her lips.

"I hear you and Kakashi have been having issues," she said lightly.

"You and the rest of Konoha," muttered Miho as she got off the examination table and reached for her cloak.

"Clearly, Kakashi is a good influence on you," groaned Tsunade. "Miho, why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because it's right," she said calmly. "I've clung to him selfishly for eleven years, but he's going to be Hokage now and I can't let my reputation affect how the council treats him. He has too much to do, Tsunade-san. He needs as much trust from the villagers and the council as he can, especially with Konoha being the central leader of the Five Village Alliance. Kakashi is well respected, but older Kages may seek to undermine him in anyway they can because he's comparatively young. No one holds Uchiha Itachi in high regard. I can't keep holding Kakashi back."

"But hasn't it occurred to you that you may be a good influence on Kakashi as well? That these years of living together have been…good for him?"

Miho knew what Tsunade was talking about. She had felt it too. There were times when she was with Kakashi and Hiro and genuinely felt like they were a family—not some makeshift family that Itachi had posthumously thrown together—but a _real_ family, one where Miho loved Kakashi deeply and Hiro was Kakashi's son, not Itachi's, and she was…happy. Sometimes with Kakashi, she no longer felt so lonely. And sometimes, she could tell that it was the same for him. When she was alone and recalled this feeling, though, she was often overwhelmed with such guilt that she swore that she would never let herself feel that way again.

She always failed.

"It's okay to want to be happy, you know," reminded Tsunade. "It's okay to…let go of Itachi."

"Did you ever let go of Dan?" asked Miho.

Tsunade's gaze softened. "No, I didn't. But that's because I didn't find anyone else. If I had…I would have let him go. He would have wanted it…he would have never wanted to see me wallowing in misery for the rest of my life. But more than anything, Miho, it would've been because I wanted it."

* * *

_I know Tsunade treats me well. The Godaime Hokage has no business serving as the personal physician for an unimportant civilian, but she has never been one to care much for appearances. I think she wants to make sure I don't snap one day because she is just as aware as anyone of what people say about Itachi. You'd think that after twelve years, people would have better things to talk about…but with Sasuke's presence in the village, people can't help but feel ill at ease even though Sasuke has suffered through so many missions for this village. They always send him on the ridiculously high-risk ones or the menial jobs, hoping he either won't return or will blow up and rebel, giving them an excuse to imprison him. Sasuke has done neither._

_Sometimes, I feel like I should visit him. It's not like he doesn't have friends—because of her contributions during the war, Karin has gained pardon in Konoha and she has remained faithful to Sasuke. Naruto and Sakura visit Sasuke too, in his old home at the Uchiha compound. I know Kakashi visits him as well, even though he knows better than to tell me when he does. _

_Still, I know that Sasuke is terribly alone. Because the remaining two Uchiha brought such calamities to the village, the council forbade Sasuke from achieving the one hope he had left: rebuilding the Uchiha clan. In respect for the old clan—the "just" and "true" Uchiha clan (oh, the irony)—the compound has been left untouched, and Sasuke lives in it alone, forbidden to have children when his old teammates are surrounded by their own little ones. Instead, Sasuke lives surrounded by ghosts. When I think of him living like that, I can't help but feel like I miss him, that letting him see Hiro would make him happy. _

_But that is only when I'm thinking clearly and calmly. Most of the time, when I think of Sasuke, I can only see him as the one person that Itachi loved more than he loved me. _

_Most of the time, I don't miss Sasuke. Instead, I wish he were dead._

* * *

"Okaa-san, are you okay?"

Though it was a sweltering summer day, Miho felt somewhat shivery and light-headed. The streets were crowded with people making their way to the Hokage Tower, where the inauguration would be taking place. Nevertheless, she gave Hiro a quick smile.

Her relationship with her son had improved drastically, mostly because of Kakashi, but also because Hiro quickly began to realize just how much more talented he was than the average ninja. Over the last two years, Hiro outshone all of his peers at the Academy. Even though she hated the Academy's administrators, she knew Kakashi was right in that she could not keep isolating Hiro. Instead, she trained with him intensely, correcting his much-too-pacifistic habits when he was bullied and teaching him to stand up for himself. They had struck a fine balance between Hiro's passive disposition and Miho's confrontational one, and soon, Hiro was coming back with news that he was making friends. He soon graduated with highest honors; Miho had been nothing but proud.

"I'm fine. Are you excited?"

Hiro nodded. "I went over to Kakashi's last night and we practiced and made some changes."

"Changes?" said Miho, stunned. She could never tell if Kakashi was serious or just humoring him when he asked for Hiro's opinion. "Hiro, this oath has been the same for decades—you can't just make changes to it because Kakashi says you can."

"But he shouldn't swear the oath if he can't fulfill it," said Hiro stubbornly.

"What did you change?" said Miho, dreading the answer.

"We just added 'to the best of my capabilities' after 'As Hokage, I swear that I will uphold the practices of punctuality and promptness on all matters of paramount gravity.' Face it, it's not like Kakashi could be on time even if it were to save his life."

"True," she admitted, relieved. "Good job. I was afraid you had said changed it to something worse."

"Kakashi wanted to add, 'As Hokage, I swear that I will fully support and fund with taxpayers' salaries the making of the _Icha Icha_ novels into a full television series'—"

"He wouldn't dare," said Miho, paling.

"Don't worry, I told him that wasn't okay. Plus, I said that he really should stop acting like he reads those porn books when he has you—"

"Hiro!" she said, flushing. "How the hell do you know what porn is?"

"…Kaa-san…I'm eleven. I'm not an idiot."

"I'm going to kill Kakashi," muttered Miho under her breath. "Corrupting your head at such a young age…I swear he came out of his mother's womb with a porn magazine in his hand."

"He says it's 'first-rate literature with merely a tinge of sexual innuendo.' He said when I'm thirteen—"

"You touch one of those books and your neurons will atrophy immediately," said Miho, deadpan.

"Kakashi's still going to be Hokage and he reads them all the time…I'm kidding, Kaa-san," he added hastily when he saw Miho's glare. "I won't touch them. They sound stupid anyway."

Miho patted him on the head. Though a bit short for his age, Hiro was lean and as healthy as an eleven-year-old could be. He looked more and more like a true Uchiha with every passing day. Thank God Itachi had not passed on his premature wrinkles—he had passed on enough of his imperfections. Truthfully, in certain lights, Hiro looked more like Sasuke than his father.

They wove through the crowd to find a spot right in the middle of the town square, where the stage was easily visible.

"Can you see, Hiro?"

"I'll manage," he replied, standing on his tiptoes. "Kaa-san, are we really permanently not living with Kakashi anymore?"

She had expected the question eventually, but the timing was far from perfect.

"Hiro," she began wearily, "I know it's hard but…it's a delicate situation and…"

Hiro waited patiently for her to finish, but Miho found that the words were harder to get out of her mouth than she would have thought. Maybe it was because she and Hiro had never sat down and talked about what her kekkei genkai would do to her eventually. Maybe it was because she had been thinking of letting Hiro live with Kakashi, so she could die alone. She was a terrible mother.

"Can we talk about it later?" she finished pathetically.

Hiro looked disappointed but nodded. "Okay. The ceremony looks like it's going to start soon anyway."

Kakashi and Tsunade appeared on the stage, both of them dressed in the traditional red and white garb of the Hokage. Beside them were the two elderly councilors whom Miho was very familiar with, but for the sake of the occasion, she blotted them from their vision. Nearby, Naruto—who would undoubtedly be the Hokage after Kakashi—and Sakura, the Godaime's apprentice, lingered in the back as Shizune scuttled back and forth with last minute preparations. Miho smiled at the sight of Kakashi, who looked incredibly bored and uncomfortable with his large straw hat and flowing robes.

"Kakashi looks ridiculous," she said. "After today, he's going to make some alterations to the Hokage's uniform…or abolish it completely."

"I can't see," Hiro complained, straining his neck as far as he could. "Can we move closer?"

"Need help?" a voice behind them said.

In populated places, Miho often tuned down her sensing ability, often finding that so many emotions overwhelmed her. She turned around now, surprised that anyone was bothering to talk to them when most people pretended they were invisible.

Sasuke was standing behind her, his face expressionless as if it were chiseled out of marble. He was in his late-twenties now; the ridiculous genes of the Uchiha had made him into a beautiful young man who should have sent every woman nearby swooning. Now, though, their neighbors eyed the three of them with distaste, their gazes condemning them for the gall to be out in the open.

Their opinions were all lost on Sasuke. Aloof and as uncaring of others as he always had been, he now looked at Miho pensively, waiting for her reply. She had not seen Sasuke in nearly a year now, not since Naruto had coerced her to host a surprise birthday party for Kakashi. The old gang had all been invited. She had been surprised that Sasuke had bothered to show up at all. The two of them had exchanged greetings—Sasuke's polite, Miho's chilly—and that had been the extent of their contact. She had not missed the interest Hiro had showed in his uncle, though. Their physical similarities were undeniable, and it did not help that Sasuke was noticeably kinder to his nephew than he was to anyone else.

"Oji-san," said Hiro, visibly pleased to see Sasuke.

Sasuke nodded toward him. "Need a boost?"

Hiro flushed. "That would be nice…thanks."

Miho's protest died in her throat as she watched Sasuke hoist his nephew over his shoulder with ease.

"Aren't you a little old for that?" was the only thing Miho could manage.

"It's okay, I trust Oji-san," said Hiro happily. "We've done more dangerous things like—"

"Hiro," said Sasuke warningly.

The young boy paled as he realized his mistake. "Oops…"

Miho stared. "Dangerous things?"

"They weren't really dangerous," said Hiro nervously. "Just…training…stuff…"

"You and _Sasuke_?" she repeated disbelievingly. "How long has this been going on?"

Sasuke sighed, resigned to his fate. "I taught Hiro his first Katon."

Hiro had learned his first Katon when he was eight. After a week of coming home, battered and exhausted, which he had just attributed to "trying out a new jutsu Kakashi showed me," he had finally displayed the _Katon Goukakyuu no Jutsu_ for her, right on the dock that Sasuke had shown her so many years ago. It had been three years since then, and Hiro had improved in leaps and bounds.

"I should've known," she said in a steely tone. "There was no way he could've picked those up just by watching Kakashi."

"Katon is the first jutsu required for us to be recognized as true Uchiha," said Sasuke. "Your son is an Uchiha. He needs proper guidance, especially when he activates the Sharingan."

"He has Kakashi."

"Kakashi is going to be the Rokudaime Hokage. Hiro is also not his son."

"He is _my_ son," she seethed.

"Itachi's son. My blood."

"Itachi was your blood. It didn't stop you from killing him."

The words were cold and brutal. Her logical side knew that it wasn't true, that Itachi had collapsed on his own, and that he had intended to die. But she knew that Sasuke blamed himself and she wanted him to know that she blamed him too, and that she hated him for it.

Sasuke looked at her, his dark eyes barely flickering. Ever since his trial, Sasuke's eyes were always dead. She had not seen his Sharingan in over a decade, and Kakashi had mentioned that Sasuke tried not to use them on his missions unless he needed to. Still, suppressing the Sharingan for an Uchiha was like forcing a fish not to swim. She knew Sasuke was repenting and she felt sorry for him, but whenever he appeared in front of her, looking too much like his dead brother, something in her snapped.

"Kaa-san," said Hiro, his tone pleading. "I was the one who asked Oji-san to help me. I…Kakashi wasn't around and I needed help with the Katon…and you were in the hospital so I…"

The fact that she had been Hiro's afterthought stung deeply, but it wasn't information she didn't already know. The problems she had with her son were ones that she had taken years to fix, but Sasuke had simply waltzed into Hiro's heart and made a cozy little spot for himself. She hated him for it.

"Hiro," she said curtly, "one day you will understand. Get down, now."

"How would he understand if you haven't told him anything?" retorted Sasuke. "He hardly knows who Itachi is. He doesn't know anything about the Uchiha. You've left him stranded—he can't connect with Konoha, the Uchiha, or you."

Her chakra seared like fire in her veins. "You dare—"

"Kaa-san," begged Hiro. "Please stop."

She held her tongue as she and Sasuke merely glared at each other. She knew she could have been the bigger person all these years. She knew Sasuke wanted to spend time with Hiro, his only living blood relative. But being the bigger person was so hard, especially when Miho was the way she was, always failing to see the overall picture.

Sasuke shifted his footing and let out a sigh.

"Miho," he said quietly, "I know you blame me. I understand. It's why these eleven years, I have given you space and time. I have taken eleven years to understand what I did wrong…that I should have trusted Itachi. But you don't get it. You had time with him. You got to be with him, see him when he was being…Itachi the Brother, not Itachi the Psychopath. I didn't. Every time I saw him, he tortured me. He compelled me to hate him, and even though I know now that it was all an act…at the time…I believed him. That's all I could do. You loved one member of the Uchiha clan, but I…loved all of them. Itachi murdered my parents right in front of me. I was younger than Hiro then. I couldn't understand anything that Itachi had planned. I just walked straight into his traps and it…it doesn't excuse me but at the least…"

His voice trailed off. Miho knew all this already. She knew that Sasuke was not the one to blame, especially when Itachi had set everything up for him. Sasuke was a child, he had always been a child, even when Itachi died. Fifteen. He had been too young to understand anything but his hatred.

Miho's throat had gone dry. Eleven years had gone by and she had never exchanged any words with Sasuke beyond what was absolutely necessary. Now, in the middle of a crowd, he had poured out an explanation and apology that he must have mulled over for the decade. Sasuke and her son—she should have known. Hiro's mannerisms reminded her of the younger Sasuke more than they did of Itachi, who had always failed so miserably at being a child.

"I…"

Her statement was drowned out by the abrupt shrieking of a megaphone.

"Hello? Hello?" Kakashi tapped the speaker. "Can everyone hear me?"

There was a loud noise of assent from the crowd. Miho looked at Sasuke, but his gaze had shifted to his former teacher. It worked out for her. She needed time to determine what she would say.

"Excellent," said Kakashi cheerily, "well, hello everyone, I am Hatake Kakashi, son of Hatake Sakumo and pupil of Namikaze Minato. My hobbies are, well, I like most things, I dislike some things, and—"

"There's an actual speech you're supposed to read, you idiot!" shouted Tsunade from the sidelines.

"Ah, yes," he said, picking up several sheaves of paper from the podium in front of him. Miho looked on apprehensively. What was Kakashi doing? He knew better than this.

"I am to be inaugurated as the Rokudaime Hokage of Konohagakure, after the esteemed Senju Tsunade, our Godaime Hokage, whom I will turn to for guidance…I swear to uphold the morals of our great village and protect its citizens from all harm…I will not squander the money in our coffers…blah, blah, blah…"

Miho's face went colorless. Around her, some citizens were turning to each other, confused and irritated with Kakashi's lackadaisical manner as he continued to gloss over the papers.

"I thought you reviewed this with him," she whispered to Hiro, all thoughts of Sasuke temporarily put on hold as she grappled with Kakashi's blasphemous behavior.

"I did," he insisted, panicky. "He was fine yesterday! We went through the entire thing! I even told him he couldn't do anything funny!"

"He just said 'blah, blah, blah' in front of the entire village!" Kakashi was now very obviously reading one select line about maintaining the public peace and made an offhanded comment about making the public bathhouses co-ed in order to promote this so-called peace. "_He just told everyone he's a pervert_—oh, my God…"

Tsunade looked partially furious, but Miho could tell that if she weren't the Godaime, she would be doubled-over, laughing, just like Naruto was on the sidelines. Sakura looked, at worst, amused, though Shizune seemed positively frantic as Kakashi muttered something under his breath about in honor of the great Jiraiya, _Icha Icha! the Pornographic Reality Show_ would be an excellent method of memorializing one of the beloved Sannin.

"And now for the last page," said Kakashi, tossing the papers aside.

"He doesn't even need papers," said Hiro faintly. "He has the Sharingan."

"I believe I've done an excellent job convincing you all of my reputation," said Kakashi, his tone now serious. "Now that I've shattered any idyllic images of me as this village's perfect hero, I want to say that I am not one. True heroes do not become Hokage. They do not get to stand in front of this village and make a speech. They do not get this honor because they are dead."

The crowd, which had been buzzing earlier, was now deathly silent. The councilors onstage were looking at each other in confusion. Sakura shot Naruto a sharp look, but he merely shrugged and grinned. Miho turned to her son, but he shook his head. This was not part of the speech. This was all Kakashi alone.

"True heroes are quiet," he continued, looking straight at the audience. "They do not clamor for glory or recognition for their deeds. They live and they die for the good of this village and are happy as long as this village is safe, regardless of whether this village hates them or even knows their names."

Miho suddenly knew where this was going. She whirled around, looking now at Sasuke, whose pale, wide-eyed face indicated that he understood as well.

"He can't," Sasuke whispered. "They won't allow it—the councilors—"

But Kakashi very clearly did not give a damn about the councilors. He looked straight down at the crowd, his face shaded by his ridiculous straw hat, and said,

"Uchiha Itachi was a true hero who lived and died on this village's orders."

The crowd's buzzing swelled like an injured bee, and people began shooting the three of them looks. Kakashi plowed on, explaining The Truth from the very beginning, ignoring any outbursts and the occasional, "Liar!" He was the Rokudaime Hokage now. No matter how nonchalantly he said the words, he had repeated the oath required of him and only a unanimous vote from the council could set him aside.

Sasuke tapped Miho on the shoulder. He had let Hiro down to the ground, preoccupied with something other than Kakashi's apparent blasphemy.

"We need to go," he said. "Get out before they start asking any more questions."

Miho did not protest. She followed Sasuke, weaving out of the crowd with her head bowed and her hand wrapped around Hiro's tightly. Several people tried to follow them, but Sasuke had his Sharingan activated and, with one swirl of tomoe, had the path cleared. As they snaked through, Kakashi's voice carried over with explanations: that the Godaime Hokage supported his decision to reveal the truth; that their intent was to create a more transparent government; that the citizens of Konoha deserved to know the sacrifices being made for their safety.

They climbed up to an open apartment complex that had a balcony overlooking the square. It was thankfully deserted, as most people were accumulated down below. Miho looked over the edge at the heads in the crowd, all turning to each other as the buzz grew louder. She could read their emotions: anger, disbelief, betrayal. Of course they would not understand. Truth was an ugly thing, shot down and buried whenever it reared its hideous head. _What is he saying_—_it's all the Uchiha's fault—this is madness—someone tricked him—_

"Kaa-san?" said Hiro, his voice coming from a place so far away that Miho could barely hear him.

"Mm?" Miho heard herself say. Her son's hand was grasped so tightly in hers that she would not have been surprised to hear him say that it hurt.

"Are you okay?"

Miho had no response. Okay? What defined the state of "okay?" She was okay—fine, even. She had been fine for the last eleven years.

"Don't bother her right now, Hiro," said Sasuke quietly.

Hiro was a smart child, and he understood. Miho looked down at the crowd and sensed. She was inundated with anger, seething chakra and questions and demands. ANBU guards were moving, trying to stop the crowd from gathering onto the stage. Kakashi finished speaking and merely stared at his constituents. Tsunade was verbally wrestling with the two elderly councilors. Sakura and Naruto approached their teacher, one on each side, a wall of support against the closest thing to a rebellion that Miho had ever seen.

And yet, in all the chaos and hatred and disbelief, Miho felt an extraordinary tranquility. It was a feeling that had escaped her ever since Itachi died, one that she had long forgotten. She relished in it, knowing that it was derived from the negative energy she was sensing in the masses below, and her blood seared with heat for a sheer millisecond. Her eyes shone and she almost smiled.

_Uchiha Itachi was a true hero who lived and died on this village's orders._

She had not shed a tear since that night, when she had promised Itachi that she would never reveal the truth. But it did not stop her now from feeling this peace, from squeezing Hiro's hand tightly as tears rolled down her cheeks and the only thing she could think was:

_Finally, Itachi. Finally._

* * *

_Making that promise to Itachi was contradictory to anything that he ever wanted me to do. Telling me not to hate Konoha, not to hate Sasuke, to forgive them, but to never expect anything out of them. Who can live like that for twelve years and learn to love this village? Even I know I am the farthest thing from understanding. It's a wonder how I became a physician at all._

_So when The Truth dropped from Kakashi's tongue today, of course I felt peace. I felt something deeper than that—a great elation and vindictive satisfaction that at last, at long last, I have gotten what I have always wanted. _

_But the aftermath wasn't what I wanted. I wanted those councilors to repent and the citizens to _understand_ just what Kakashi had meant by telling them The Truth. That this safety they so take for granted comes at the expense of others, and to this day, the faceless and nameless suffer for them. But of course, no one wants to hear that. Politically, Kakashi made a terrible move. Even though Naruto, whom no one can doubt, affirmed that Kakashi had been honest, it doesn't change that every village near and far will know what atrocities Konoha has committed against its own citizens. Konoha's reputation has taken a lethal blow, considering how high of a pedestal that it has put itself on. _

_Part of me doesn't care. The part of me that just stood there with Sasuke, overlooking the chaos and feeling the same thing that he felt. I will never forget the look on Sasuke's face, his Sharingan blazing in all its triumphant lack of mercy, the same odd expression Itachi sometimes had when he felt particularly vengeful. Sasuke is not complaining. He does not care about Konoha's reputation. He cares for Itachi, for the Uchiha that was brutally massacre, the family that was ripped away from him in the past and denied him in the future. He couldn't care less for the citizens whose ignorant safety has tormented him for so long._

_But part of me does care, no matter how much I try not to. I can't tell if it's me worrying about Konoha or me worrying about Kakashi. Most likely the latter, especially if the council withdraws its support or if war breaks out with Otogakure. Kakashi is considered to be young for a Hokage. He needs all the support he can get. _

_Yet honestly, why do I care? Even if I wanted to, I don't have the capacity to. My body is catching up to me, and I have no will. _

_I have achieved the peace I've always wanted. I have fulfilled my duty, and I am tired. I miss Itachi, and I want to rest._

* * *

Being Hokage consisted more of tedious paperwork, council meetings, and listening to insignificant people's opinions than anything else. Truthfully, it was more tiresome than actual mission work. Though the death rate was infinitely higher, missions at least gave him an adrenaline rush and required him to rely on survival instinct rather than political suaveness. Additionally, he was the clear leader on most missions, so he could simply order his subordinates around rather than pretend that he found their insights valuable.

It was three hours before dawn when Kakashi finally returned to his apartment, though he could consider himself lucky that he would get at least several hours of sleep. Before leaving for the pachinko bar the previous evening, Tsunade had smirked at his plight, offering the useless advice of, "I left some sake under the floorboards if you find yourself wanting to blow your brains out."

Of course, Kakashi did not even have the opportunity to search for that sake jar, even though he desperately wanted some by the end of the first hour. He had caused quite the stir by revealing the truth behind the Uchiha massacre. Messenger pigeons had arrived from various villages: some, like Sunagakure, stood steadfast behind Kakashi and would support his ascension; others, like Otogakure, would not. Kakashi was more concerned for internal division than external though—some part of him wanted nothing better than to finally have an excuse to root Orochimaru out of his snake pit and kill him at long last. Even now, so many years later, Miho occasionally woke up in the middle of the night silently screaming.

It was the council that bothered Kakashi the most, but the reception had honestly been better than Kakashi had anticipated. He had refused to dismiss Koharu and Mitokado, instead allowing them to choose for themselves. This had been a smart move: both of them chose to remain, but it showed that Kakashi was not looking for a scapegoat—he was looking for unification. He needed a council he could trust, and the fact that Koharu and Mitokado were allowed to stay showed that he trusted, at least to some extent, their investment in the village.

To make up for Koharu and Mitokado, though, Kakashi appointed another two to his council: Nara Shikamaru and Haruno Sakura. He had conferred with Tsunade before the inauguration, and the Godaime had suggested that he needed younger opinions among his board if he wanted to rebuild the trust among his citizens.

"Shikamaru and Sakura are clear choices," Tsunade had said dryly. "They're the smartest of their generation and well-liked. I would've suggested Naruto because of his overwhelming popularity, but you don't want Naruto sitting on council. Naruto will be a great Hokage either in times of complete peace or complete war—not when Konoha is trying desperately to maintain one or the other."

Shikamaru and Sakura were the youngest councilors appointed in the history of Konoha, but no one protested. The two of them had proved their worth at the first emergency meeting, held directly after Kakashi's inauguration, and the two of them had already sketched out all possible courses of action should Otogakure go to war with Konoha.

"Orochimaru needs to give up Konoha already," Sakura had muttered after the meeting. "Stupid git. Maybe we can send Sasuke on a mission so he can burn Orochimaru with Amaterasu—I'm sure he'd enjoy that."

But Sasuke would enjoy another decision they made much more. With Sakura's stern conviction, the ban on rebuilding the Uchiha clan was lifted. Sasuke would be allowed to rebuild his family at long last. It was a small price to pay, and the council had accepted the decision without much trouble. The difficulties came from how Kakashi would deal with his citizens, and the rest of the night had been dedicated to brainstorming methods so that the villagers could regain trust in its government.

_Fight a war_, thought Kakashi sardonically when the time was nearing midnight, but he knew better than to say it aloud. The conversation moved slowly, but when the meeting was finally adjourned, he could not deny that it had at least been productive.

Kakashi opened the door, resigned to the fact that his apartment would be empty. Miho and Hiro had moved out several months before, but after living together for so long, he was finding it difficult to acclimate to the vacant house. He hadn't been able to find Miho in the crowd that day, but he knew she had been there.

_There, Itachi_, thought Kakashi wearily. _I made Miho and your son suffer for twelve years. Even you can concede that that was long enough._

As he took off his shoes, he was surprised to find another pair of flats near the entrance mat. Immediately alert, he reached to uncover his Sharingan.

"It's me, Kakashi."

The lights flicked on, and Miho stood in front of him, tired but welcoming. Kakashi straightened up, relieved to see her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Where's Hiro?"

"He's staying over at Sasuke's."

Miho's voice was flat, but the sentence alone meant that something in Miho had changed drastically.

"You forgave him," he stated.

But the moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. He was wrong. This was Miho's preparation. She did not want to leave Hiro alone when she died.

Miho gave him a wan smile.

"You're thinking terrible thoughts of me now, aren't you?" she said.

"Are they true?"

She merely smiled and retreated to the dining room, moving with the familiarity of one who belonged here. Kakashi followed her, and the two of them sat down across from each other at the kitchen table, where a pot of tea was already placed on the burner in the center of the table. Miho turned it on and sat silently. Kakashi spoke first.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She took a long time to answer.

"Peaceful," was the answer at last. "At first. As if…as if this great weight has been lifted and I just felt…very serene."

Kakashi frowned. "Felt?"

She met his eyes, any sign of warmth now replaced with a deep sobriety.

"You shouldn't have," she said at last. Her voice was soft and calm. "You could have waited…until your role as Hokage became more stable. When the villagers loved you more."

"The villagers loved me too much," he said sharply. "They were completely blind to everything dark and dangerous that preserves their safety. It will lead to a weak village, Miho. It wasn't a choice made entirely for you, Hiro, and Sasuke."

"But on some level, it was."

"Of course it was," he said easily. "You have suffered enough."

"Kakashi, how many times do I have to tell you that you're not obligated to be kind to me? This is the trust of your village that we're talking about."

"Your entire life would have been dramatically different if Itachi had actually followed through on his obligations to be kind to you."

"…What are you trying to do, Kakashi?" she said jadedly. "You are not Itachi. My expectations of you are very different."

"Because I don't love you?" he said. "And because you don't love me?"

Miho's eyes narrowed. "You know I love you."

"Differently, yes. Our relationship is based on that. We are each other's surrogate love. Because the ones we truly belong to have already passed, we fill those vacancies with each other until we die and rejoin the ones we love. It is the perfect, half-hearted relationship."

She did not miss the biting sarcasm in his voice.

"It's not like that," Miho said evenly.

"Really?" said Kakashi, reaching for the teapot and pouring her a cup. "I thought that was what we had decided. Isn't that exactly what you told me before you left?"

"I want you to be happy," she said angrily. "I'm dying, Kakashi. I don't have much longer and I can't be there to support you. I left because you should have someone you truly love—"

"Why do you insist that it have to be someone else?" he said calmly. "Why can't that someone be you?"

Miho looked strained. "Because…"

"Because what? Because you don't love me like you love Itachi? No one says that it has to be the same, but you cannot deny that what has grown between us is the farthest thing from half-hearted. You are dying because you wish to die. You do not want to dwell on the possibility that there is life—a true, real life—after Itachi, even though you know it exists. You think you've completed your duty, and so you can rest now. But it doesn't work like that, Miho. Why can't you admit that you're happy?"

Her gaze softened. "Of course I'm happy, Kakashi. You've made me happy. I—"

"I've made you happy," he cut in, "but I haven't made you want to live. Happiness is a transient state of mind. When are you going to realize that there is something between us that could be more than the fleeting sense of happiness that always makes you so guilty afterward?"

She looked stricken at his accusation, but long had Kakashi known about Miho's wavering conviction. He knew exactly why Miho was so spontaneously distant whenever they just happened to be content with each other.

"Itachi is not a god, Miho," said Kakashi, his tone gentler now. "You don't live and die when he tells you to."

Miho did not answer and instead stared down at her teacup. Kakashi pulled down his mask and brought his own steaming mug to his lips, somewhat disheartened at Miho's utter lack of response. She was thinking, though. He could tell from the way her eyes glazed over that she was thinking about the past, and he wondered if he had gotten through to her.

"Kakashi?"

"Mm?"

"How old were you when Rin died?"

The question caught him off guard. Miho almost never brought up Rin.

"…Fourteen," he said hesitantly.

"Why…" She cleared her throat and thought again before she continued. "That's very young. I…I met Itachi when I was fourteen."

There was a pause. Kakashi allowed it to linger.

"It just…it doesn't make sense sometimes," she said quietly. "We were so young…but our entire lives are just…"

"Shaped by children," he finished for her.

She seemed grateful that he had a grasp on the words she was trying to formulate.

"Why do you think we cling onto them so tightly?" she asked.

Because they didn't have any other guarantee to experience love. Because they were children but shinobi first, and because they had loved them truly.

"Because they were all we thought we had…and all we could ever have."

Her eyes met his levelly. "…You think differently now."

Kakashi did not reply immediately.

"I think…" he said slowly, "that perhaps it is time for us to realize that maybe we have punished ourselves for being the ones to survive long enough. And that maybe it is time…"

His voice trailed off, and the two of them froze. What he was saying was dangerous. Had they punished themselves? Enough, at least? Were they even punishing themselves anymore? No number of years changed the fact that they were alive while the others were dead. They had survived. They had lived on, the dead forever immortalized in the memories that they saw everywhere they went.

The question that he had struggled with for so many years resurfaced and nearly overwhelmed him: _so why were they still guilty? _

He was prepared to retreat, to admit that Miho was right. They could not forget the dead—Kakashi had only faltered momentarily, forgetting that he had already forsaken the hope of happiness for the very village he was now Hokage of. He did not deserve this.

Miho reached over to him, her palm covering his hand. He looked up at her. She smiled shakily. Her slate eyes were wet.

She squeezed his hand gently.

"Maybe it's time for us to stop being so alone," she whispered.

Kakashi understood, and the sudden danger passed. He had given this enough thought already, and now he had it.

"Yes," he heard himself saying. His fingers locked with hers in a loose hold, the rudimentary step to embarking on a relationship. "Perhaps it is time."

* * *

_It has been ten years since Kakashi became Hokage. I have not written in this journal in all that time. _

_Perhaps it is because journaling has always been something that I've associated with Itachi, and over these last ten years, I've learned to let him go enough that I am not obsessing about him, my misfortunes, and my life as a whole. Perhaps it is because I've always written when I am depressed or angry, and I have been neither of those things for the last ten years._

_The reason I am writing now is very clear to me. The fact that I have survived for this long is a medical marvel already, but I cannot prolong it for much longer. I am dying, and it will be soon. _

_The news has been hard for Kakashi to take. It took Tsunade's verdict for him to finally accept, and since then, I can tell he is struggling with how to cope with the prospect of a slow but imminent death. His other loved ones have always died quickly and without warning. Now, he is aware that every moment may be the last, so he tried to return home every night as early as he can. Politics won't let him—though the war with Otogakure ended three years ago, there is always internal disquiet from the ashes of Root. The excuse of a chronically ill wife can only excuse him so much. _

_I'm not entirely sure how to take this transition. Death has been something I've prepared so long for that some of the sting and fear has dulled. But I suppose that whenever I think of dying, I think of Itachi. I wonder if he is still waiting for me, in that place where there is no beginning and no end, and I wonder if he still loves me even though I have found someone else. I wonder if he is glad that I chose to live for someone other than him, and if he will still love me even though I have been happy without him._

* * *

The day came like any other. The sun shone into Miho's room, bright and early with the songs of morning birds. She woke up naturally, feeling lethargic. She had been sleeping the majority of the time for the last several months, but even with so many hours of rest, she was always tired. Tsunade encouraged her to exercise as much as she could, but most days, Miho found it too difficult to move out of bed at all.

Her door slid open and Sasuke stepped in, dressed in a formal black, high-collared shirt and pants. The Uchiha crest was imprinted on the side of his neck. His eyes flickered at the sight of her awake, but otherwise, his face was as impassive as always. Miho smiled kindly at the sight of him.

"Did I wake you up?" he said, sitting down next to her.

"No, I just woke up," she replied. "You have good timing."

He brought a hand up to her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Same as always. How was the funeral?"

He shrugged. "Fine. They didn't say anything significant. Nothing about the massacre."

Miho gave a small smirk. "You don't seriously think they'd bring that up at her funeral, did you? That's like saying we should mention how you betrayed Konoha at your funeral."

"Wouldn't bother me," said Sasuke acidly. "I'd be dead."

Miho chuckled. "Did Kakashi go back to the Tower then?"

"Mm. He said he'd try to come back early today, but they need to appoint someone to fill Koharu's space."

"Who are they thinking about?"

"Me," said Sasuke, his tone as flat as ever, revealing nothing.

Miho smiled. "Will you take it if they offer?"

Sasuke nodded. "It will give the Uchiha clan more political leverage."

"Careful, " she admonished. "You're there to support the Hokage…eventually to support Naruto. Don't get sidetracked, Sasuke."

He did not seem to be listening, but he said, "I understand."

"How are Karin and the kids?"

"Fine," he said curtly. "She's been tired with work, but Itachi is at least obedient and doesn't cause much trouble. On the other hand…"

"Mikoto is a handful, for sure."

"An understatement," said Sasuke dryly. "You'd think that she'd be more understanding after entering the Academy…"

"Spend more time with her and she'll stop clamoring for attention," said Miho easily. "She's like you when you were a child. If you give Itachi all your love, what's she supposed to do?"

"I know," he said with an annoyed sigh. "I'll work on it. I came by to tell you…Karin's pregnant."

"Again?" laughed Miho. "Sasuke, I know you want to rebuild the clan but give your poor wife a break…"

"It wasn't planned," said Sasuke shortly. "Itachi's nine and Mikoto's already six—it's not like I have an agenda to have as many kids as possible."

"I know, I know," she said, trying to sit up. Sasuke helped her and propped her up on her pillows. "It's just…funny."

"How's Hiro?" said Sasuke, deadpan and very evidently trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"He's doing well…he came by yesterday with the Hyuuga girl—"

"Uzumaki," corrected Sasuke. "Uzumaki Mai."

"Ah, yes…I always forget because the Byakugan is the most noticeable thing about her. She's several years younger than him…but seems kind enough."

"She's Naruto's daughter," he said, "and from the main house of the Hyuuga. She is a fair match for an Uchiha."

Miho smiled wearily. "Stop thinking about matching for the Uchiha, Sasuke. Don't involve Hiro in your plans."

"He's my nephew, Miho. He's Itachi's son."

"By blood," she said. "It was Kakashi who raised him…and Hiro doesn't have the Sharingan. The old clan would never have recognized him."

When Hiro turned eighteen, Miho had finally concluded that Hiro had neither kekkei genkai. Blood tests showed no trace of highly concentrated chakra, and the Sharingan typically activated by age thirteen in most Uchiha. After so many years of worrying which bloodline Hiro carried, Miho was somewhat relieved to discover that her son actually had neither. Still, the fact that Hiro showed no signs of the Sharingan had been a blow to Sasuke's plans. He needed help to rebuild the clan over multiple generations; it did not help that Hiro showed no interest in claiming his Uchiha birthright. His duty resided with Konoha and Kakashi.

"I'll talk to him," said Sasuke. "I won't force him if he doesn't want to."

"Thank you." She reached up and patted Sasuke's head. "Don't work too hard, Sasuke. Don't focus too much on your clan…or you'll fall quickly."

"Don't worry," he said. "I know my purpose. The fan to the flame." He stood up to leave. "I'll drop by the Tower and tell Kakashi to come back as early as possible. You don't look well. Do you need anything?"

Miho shook her head. The action took more effort than it should have.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

She let out a long breath as the door slid shut behind Sasuke. It was different today. Something in her body was heavier, and the action of lifting one finger exhausted her.

_Soon, Itachi. Soon._

Was he still waiting? What if that place with no beginning and no end was empty when she arrived? Could she progress, or would she wander, alone because she had betrayed Itachi's love?

Miho shuddered, somehow frightened. She felt very cold even though the autumn sun was golden and warm. The room that she and Kakashi shared seemed jarringly foreign, and any of his lingering presence seemed to have disappeared. For the first time since she came to terms with loving Kakashi, she felt very alone.

Her window was slightly ajar, welcoming in a warm breeze that cloaked her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to calm down, closing her eyes as she did. She tried to imagine Kakashi next to her, his arms surrounding her body in protection, but try as she might, she could only think of Itachi.

How many years had it been now? Nineteen, twenty? Sometimes, she could not even recall his face anymore, let alone his touch. The most she could remember was an excruciating ache, the one she felt when she had seen him come back from the dead.

Twenty years later, it still throbbed.

Something cawed. Miho's eyes snapped open and she turned to the window, where she saw a familiar crow sitting on the sill. She had not Summoned a crow since the conclusion of the Fourth Shinobi War, but it did not take her long to realize that this was not even her Summon.

"You are Itachi's crow," she said, stunned.

"I am. It has been a long time, Chiaki Miho."

"…Why are you here?" she said warily.

"To pass on a message that Itachi left for you."

_A message? It has been twenty years, you stupid bird._

"What kind of message?"

"When the time is appropriate, please direct Miho to the journal we shared," said the crow.

Miho had been careful not to exert any chakra or lose any blood for the last half-year. The state that the simplest jutsu left her body in was excruciating and pathetic, but Miho did not even think of the repercussions as she brought her wrists together. Shakily, she Summoned the journal. She had not read it since Itachi had died. She could not remember why.

_Ah, that's right_, her conscience reminded her. _It's because in the last entry you had, you begged him to stay. And he didn't._

"Why did you wait so long?" she said, her tone containing a sharp edge.

"Because only now is the time right."

_Because I am dying_? Miho pursed her lips and flipped through the fragile pages delicately. She glanced over her entries from when she was a child—what young, uncultivated handwriting she'd had. Then came Itachi's entries, starting with the one that she had been so furious at him for. But the rage faded as quickly as it came, and she skimmed through the next few pages that documented their exchanges in their half-year of separation. The barest traces of honesty lined his writing, but it all agitated her.

She did not read her last entry. She knew what it said, and knowing that he had read it and had still forsaken their future still hurt. Instead, she turned the page, and there it was: an unread message in Itachi's steady, thoughtful hand. Miho froze, her slender fingers poised shakily over the edge of the page. It was a long entry. Itachi's words blurred together in clumps of black ink and she could make none of them out—no words, no meaning, no emotion.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, internally grasping for the serenity that had kept her sane for all these years. Kakashi, her voice of reason; Hiro, her flesh and blood and love; Sasuke, her constant worry. But try as she might, she could not find peace in the list of those who were living, but instead felt it in the lingering memory of Itachi. Yes, she remembered now. Itachi's gentleness, how, when compared to his brother's, Itachi's dark eyes could always speak volumes. She remembered his low chuckle and his teasing witticisms that bordered flirtatious.

She remembered a promise, made on the rickety bridge from life to death, built shakily in tears and wants.

When she opened her eyes again, the crow was waiting patiently for her to proceed.

Instead, though, Miho snapped the journal shut.

"…You won't read it?" said the crow.

"I don't need to," she said calmly. "I know he is waiting."

The crow nodded and said nothing, but Miho knew she had made the right decision. Suddenly, an immense lethargy overtook each cell in Miho's body, and she slumped onto her pillows. The sunlight enveloped her in shallow heat that did nothing to warm her, but she was content—comfortable, even. On the windowsill was a red pinwheel, plotted in flowerpot that once held an orchid Sasuke's children had given to her. Mikoto had been the one to plant the pinwheel, much to little Itachi's chagrin, as the colors clashed horribly.

Miho watched the pinwheel turn in the gentle breeze that swept through her open window. Lazily, it turned, a slow blur of red that she found surprisingly soothing. Her gaze was clear and fixated as the pinwheel began to turn just a little faster.

She wished that she could have said goodbye to Kakashi.

In the corner of her vision, the crow watched her. Like an illusion from long ago, the pinwheel spun and spun, and soon, Miho closed her eyes.

Her sleep was dreamless.

* * *

_Miho, _

_I am praying that you don't wake up while I write this. I am not in a condition stable enough to properly confront you. You tax my intelligence more than you could ever understand, and I do not believe I have the strength to tell you this face-to-face. _

_Miho, tomorrow, I am going to die. It is a fact that no one can change, not even myself. No matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise, there are some aspects in our lives that we have no control over. Tomorrow, I will die—it is the final event, the action that my entire life has culminated to. All humans die. We cannot stop it._

_So these will count as my last words for you. It has taken me several hours to find the precise ones to say. Should I talk about the past? The unobtainable future? Or the sad present, where I know how hard you are working to cure me, yet I am still resolved to die? Should I belabor why our situation is so unfortunate, or should I beg for your forgiveness? _

_But I have done all these things already, Miho. You have done all these things. I can see it in your eyes when you are angry, when you think about why I refuse to tell you the truth. It is always on the tip of your tongue—this accusation, this hurt, but I can always see you catch yourself. Why? Is it because you know it is useless? Is that why you hate my apologies so much—because they rub salt on the wound?_

_So I will not apologize, not here, not now. I will not try to convince you that I do not have a choice. Instead, I want to tell you the truth. Not about the massacre, not about my duty, but the truth regarding why I have never been able to give you the choice to truly leave me. I have always had incredible self-control, but when it came to you, I could not stop. I could not let you go because letting you go would make the life I have lived for myself utterly hollow. You, singularly, are my life's worth, all selfishness and desire, hopes and dreams for something and someone weaker yet greater than myself, the heir and slayer of the Uchiha clan._

_I know you think that I have never been able to see you as my most important priority. It is true, for the most part. Yet, the rare times I did choose you, I was pushed back to my duty, be it by Fate or forces otherwise. The very first night I chose you over duty, Shisui found me, and I killed him. I told myself that it was the end, that you could never love someone who had slain his own kin. _

_But you did, and you were a fool to do so. I was the greater fool to hold on to you. Had I not, perhaps you would have been spared. But I chose you all the same. _

_I have told you before that I was not the one to kill your father or pierce you against that tree. I told you that I withheld this secret because it did not make a difference—that I was on my way to kill you. But I lied. Again, I lied, because I did not want to give you false hope. _

_It made a difference, a world of difference. I was on my way to your home, and by the time I arrived, I was full of conviction that you would forgive me. I was going to leave Konoha, and I knew that you would leave with me. I placed all hopes of humanity on you, and I knew you would not fail me. _

_But Fate had other plans. Madara killed you before I found you. When I did, I stood there, watching, as the last breath left your lips and your body grew still. I dared not try to save you. Instead, I watched you die, and I was taught the human experience of what it means to truly be helpless, no matter how strong of a shinobi I was otherwise. To me, all possible hopes and dreams beginning and ending with you died then and there—when I realized what it means to be mortal._

_Today, we spoke briefly of our Summons. This conversation has lingered on my mind for the last several hours, and after some thought, I believe I know why we are tied by this ominous creature. All the fantastical notions about our crows as divine guides are true. That they are the messengers of Death is also true. But why us, Miho? Why me, slayer of my own kin? Why you, the hereditary healer? _

_You must see where I am going with this now. Coincidence does not exist where there is Fate. Our crows bring our lives full circle, for there is no beginning without an end, and there is no life without death. They are mirrors, showing us that our reflections are each other. They teach us that even though they are our Summons, we are mortals and they are not—that when the time is right, they will come and collect us, guiding us to the place after death where the hope we could not obtain in life exists. _

_As I write this, I understand now what defines the right time. It is when we welcome Death with open arms even though we want nothing more than to live. Here, there exists a will to live and an acceptance to die. Here, there exists a liminal space where all things are paradoxical and true. Here, there exists peace in apparent chaos. _

_Forgive me for my philosophical notions, Miho. My crow is here now. I am resolute. I am at peace. And at Death's door, I know clearer than anything that you alone made my life worth living._

_Now, I will leave you, and I will wait for you. I hope that when your crow comes, he will take you with the barest flutter of wings, the gentlest wind and the quietest caw. I hope that in this suspension of time and space, life and death, dreams and reality, I will find you. _

_And I hope you will forgive me then._

_Yours,_

_Itachi._

* * *

_**fin. **_

_A Glass of Crimson Souls. end._


End file.
